Hallows' Moon
by twoscarypandas
Summary: The full moon falls on All Hallows' Night, and Norway is left to deal with a host of nations who are more than they seem. With wolves on the loose, fairies gone wild, and an imp for a partner, he's going to need some extra help. Unfortunately, what he gets is a nightmare.
1. Bad Moon Rising

Happy Halloween! In honor of the season, we have a hetaliafied tale of wizards, wolves, vampires, and more! We hope you enjoy.

**Chapter Summary:** Germany begins to think he is losing his mind, Italy begins craving tomatoes, and Norway begins to prepare for what is certain to be the craziest night of the year.

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Ch. 1: Bad Moon Rising

October 29, 6:00 PM

The sun is going down and the sky has taken on a brilliant orange hue that seems to only exist in fall. Norway watches it from his window, wary. There is just one more day until the full moon. To make matters worse, this year the moon will land on All Hallows' Eve. Together, they are sure to bring chaos to the world in ways that cannot be explained or understood. Shaking his head and dreading the days to come, Norway turns away from the window and begins to prepare.

XXX

Across the world, poor naive Germany is about to sit down to supper with Italy, completely oblivious to the hell that is about to rain down upon him. He's in a good mood tonight; there is sausage on the stove, beer waiting in his stein, and the promise that after dinner there will be more sex. He has Italy's favorite apron on, and he is even humming to himself. "Vene! Wine or beer?" he calls into the dining room where his lover was waiting.

Italy thinks for a moment, holding his grumbling tummy. He needs something different. He's got this odd taste in his mouth, and suddenly, he _must_ have... "TOMATO! Do we have any tomato juice?"

Germany raises an eyebrow. Odd; tomato is one of Italy's favorite things next to pasta, but it's certainly not what he would normally drink with a nice dinner. They don't really keep _juice_. "No, but we have wine."

"Tooomaaatooo," Italy whines. Wine will simply not do. Oh! But Romano was here, and he _always_ leaves tomato juice somewhere. He dives into the couch cushions and starts searching. Within moments he lets out a gleeful squeal, returning to his seat with the can. "Can you cut some fresh tomatoes too, Germany?"

Raising _both_ eyebrows at that, Germany opens the fridge and pulls out a tomato. Actually, sausage, pepper, and tomato kabobs sound good. He grabs some pepper as well and begins to slice it down.

"Don't put anything yucky with mine! Just tomato. Maaaybe pasta."

Germany starts. "But sausage is not 'yucky'!" He's almost insulted. But then, it is Italy. He sighs. "Fine." He starts grilling peppers, but leaves the tomato untouched.

Suddenly, Prussia walks through the wall right behind Italy and shouts, "BEER!"

"WAA!" Italy barely manages to keep from knocking over his precious tomato juice as he holds up his white flag and burrows under the tablecloth. "GERMANY! Save me!"

Germany jumps about five feet. "Gil. STOP that. If you're going to cling to some semblance of existence, you should be nicer about it." He opens the fridge anyway, grabbing a bottle and throwing it at his brother, smirking when it goes directly through his waiting hands.

Prussia grumbles, taking three tries to make himself present enough to pick it up. "You're just jealous that I'm this awesome now."

"Of course." He says it sarcastically, even though he is clearly going out of his mind, talking to some kind of twisted figment of his imagination. Prussia died while he was in a bad, bad place. Now there's some kind of…hallucination, claiming he's "too awesome" to fade away. Germany has never believed in ghosts. He's not about to start with his own brother. He's just... Crazy. He and Italy. They're both crazy.

Italy peeks out from under the table. "Oh! Gil, it's you! It's not very nice to be scary like that!" He taps him on the nose with his flag – or rather, through.

Germany carries the kabobs and the tomatoes to the table, shocked when Italy grabs the tomato plate from his hands, then looks down at it forlornly as though there is not enough there. Before Germany has even had the chance to sit down comfortably, Italy is finished the plate and licking every one of his fingers. "Mmm. I feel much better now!"

Germany leers at the finger licking, chewing on his kabob. "How much?" he asks in what he believes to be a seductive tone.

"Oh very much, thank you Ludwig!" Italy proceeds to down his tomato juice and slurp up his little plate of pasta, and even some meat. As always, he cannot read the atmosphere.

Prussia snorts, savoring the memory of the taste of beer even if it goes right through him, pooling on the floor. "Bruder is _trying_ to ask you for a fuck, Vene."

Germany glares at the brother who is not there. "Shut up, Gil. You just want to watch and shake the bed while we..." His face turns red.

"Ohh. Si! Of course there will be sex." Italy grins, sliding into Germany's lap for a kiss. He completely ignores the kabob that floats off of Germany's plate, disappears into Prussia's mouth, and drops right through him.

Prussia would be disappointed if his brother's face wasn't so funny. "Still gonna eat that?"

Germany runs his fingers through Vene's hair, going a little green at the sight of the kabob on the floor. "No." He turns away, shuddering and pulling Italy tighter against him, frowning as he breathes him in. He smells like tomato paste; odd, but Italy-odd, and therefore comforting.

XXX

Somewhere to the east, a howl echoes through the air and wakes the senses of three gentle nations who had never desired the waking. One of those nations finds himself growing tired of working, and restless for fresh air. Lithuania packs his tools away and wanders up the steps into the cool, dark night, heading for the garden.

In the open air, he can smell everything. The smoke from a fireplace miles away, grass touched by dew, the chocolate in Poland's cup... and the other wolf. The Big, Bad Wolf. A low, heavy growl creeps from his throat, and he stalks toward the smell. Russia was here. He'd left his scent, right by the fence to their garden. Unbuttoning his jeans, Lithuania takes himself in hand and marks his territory, then moves to the other side of the garden to do the same.

He takes a jaunt around the house, pissing wherever he finds Russia's scent, until the grounds are marked to his satisfaction. He rinses his hands with one of the yard hoses and heads back around toward the front where he smelled Poland. He smiles to himself. There's no mistaking who Poland has been with; his own scent is all over him.

Poland is enjoying the evening on the swing in their front garden, reading. Lithuania built the swing himself; it's got just the right amount of room for two people to cuddle. He's alone for the moment, but not uncomfortable since he has himself all wrapped in a blanket, a book in his lap, and a cup of hot chocolate on the side table.

A twig snaps somewhere and he glances up. There's no one in sight, but it's dark and the lamp by the bench doesn't illuminate much beyond the porch. It's probably just an animal; they get plenty of them. He takes a sip of his chocolate and breathes it in. It's getting late, and he should go in soon. The moon above is getting fuller; it might even be full on Halloween. That would be fun. It's too bad Lithuania's monthly business trip with his brothers will probably fall on the same few days. He cuddles further into the blanket, deciding he's too comfy to move just yet.

Toris heads toward the porch and grins at the sight of Feliks all curled up under his blanket, looking like an angel. "Well met by moonlight," he calls, shoving his wet hands into his pockets to dry them.

Feliks jumps a little, taken by surprise. Then he smiles. It's only Toris; he _must_ be getting tired. "Hey! Don't sneak up like that; totally uncool."

Lithuania laughs, stepping up onto the porch and leaning over him, tempting him. "It's usually harder to surprise you." Breathing in his scent calms him; it's like sun in the trees, drawing the earth to a new morning. "I guess you're a little out of it."

A lock of deep brown hair falls past Lithuania's face, and Poland tugs on it. "I've been busy and stuff. Fall harvest, remember?" He chuckles. "You should. You keep interrupting, saying I smell too good - _way_ weird, Liet, but I kind of like it."

"You _do_ smell too good." Lithuania sighs, leaning in and leaving a kiss on Poland's nose before moving lower to breathe in his scent at the neck. It's exactly right. Nipping once at his pulse, he pulls away and drops to the swing beside him, drawing the blanket over his legs. "Snuggle. You know I'm way more interesting than that book."

Poland hums, putting the book by his drink so he can cuddle up close. He inhales as he wraps the blanket around them, but has to pull away to sneeze. "You smell like your workshop. And you're covered in wood shavings."

Lithuania blushes. "Sorry." Shifting beneath the blanket, he takes off his shirt and kicks off his pants. He knows the scent irritates his lover, and besides, all Poland has on under the blanket is a flimsy little chemise and a robe.

"S'ok." Poland yawns and happily curls back into him. "You have your business trip soon, yeah?"

"Business trip?" Lithuania frowns, not sure he understands. When it dawns on him he freezes, then sighs. "Yeah. I'll hate it without you though." He can't bear the thought of leaving Poland here all alone, smelling so good and tasting just right. He wraps his arms around him, pulling him closer.

"I miss you so much whenever you leave. The house gets totally quiet, and no matter how much I sing to myself I just end up sounding like a crazy person." Poland runs a hand through Lithuania's hair, nails scratching over his scalp.

Oh, that feels nice. Nicer than usual. Lithuania closes his eyes and leans into it, sighing softly against his ear. "I never like leaving you. I swear, it's like I have attachment issues. I can't stand it when you're not around." Nibbling his earlobe, he skims a hand up Poland's side, sliding it beneath his little chemise.

Poland sighs happily, sleepy but still awake enough to fool around. "Guess we'll just have to make the most of the time we have then, huh?" His hands follow the line of Lithuania's neck, pausing to kneed his shoulders before he rubs over his sides.

Lithuania lets out a whine, dropping his face into Poland's shoulder and barely even feeling his leg spasm erratically beneath the blanket. That feels _so good_.

"Eep!" For a moment Poland thinks a mouse has crawled in with them, but a peak under the blankets tells him it's only Lithuania, his leg practically vibrating. He moves his hands to rub the leg. "Stop that, you're kicking me."

"Huh?" Lithuania opens his eyes slowly and looks down beneath the blanket. "Oh. Sorry." Blushing slightly, he reaches down and rubs his thigh, trying to make it look like a cramp. "Must've seized up on me. I didn't even feel it." His other hand creeps around, slipping up his lover's spine.

"Poor baby." Poland goes back to rubbing Lithuania's sides, but the moment he leans in to kiss him, the man's leg starts shaking again. He frowns and pulls away. "Your leg okay?"

"Y-Yeah, fine. I don't know why it's doing that." Lithuania laughs, leaning up to kiss his mouth. It's been a very long time since they've done anything intimate outside like this. His senses are amplified: he can smell everything, hear every hitch in his lover's breath. He skims his nails down Poland's spine, sliding his fingers into his pants as he nibbles the sweet spot at the shell of his ear. "How long has it been? Four hours or so?"

Poland groans, his hand moving to caress Lithuania's chest. "If that. You've been on fire the past couple of days. Did you take something from Mr. America again?" He laughs, one hand sinking low to rub against the bulge in Lithuania's boxers.

"Look who's talking." Lithuania grins, rubbing his own hand against Poland. "You were the one who started it last time. I didn't know I looked so irresistible in my apron." He kisses his mouth long and slow, taking his time, enjoying every taste, every touch.

When they pause for air, Poland pants. "But you _do _look irresistible in that apron. Especially when you're wagging your butt; it's super cute." He shifts, trying to find better balance on the swing. Something bites into his knee, and he reaches down to pull it out. It's just a stick, and with a shrug he tosses it off the porch.

Lithuania sees Poland pull something out from under the swing's cushion and launch it into the air, and quite suddenly he can think of nothing else. His mind blanks and he throws himself from the swing, skidding after it and coming to a stop. He snatches it up and runs back, dropping it into Poland's lap, still in a daze.

Poland blinks at the stick, then at Lithuania, and back again. His heart is hammering; he nearly fell off the swing when Lithuania leapt up. "Um...oookay. That's some of the weirdest foreplay I've ever seen. Wanna tell me exactly what you intend to do with that stick, Liet?"

It's only then that Lithuania comes out of the trance, shaking his head a little and blinking down at the stick. Shit. How's he going to explain this one? "I- I was saving it." Oh crap. What just came out of his mouth?

Poland raises an eyebrow. "Saving it for _what_?" He picks up the stick, trying to see if there's any special properties to it that a master craftsman might like. It looks like an ordinary stick to him, but Liet's got a funny way of deciding what wood works or doesn't. Judging by the way Lithuania's eyes follow the stick wherever he moves it, it must be something special. He sighs and puts it on the table with the book and (cold) chocolate. "Fine, whatevs. But do me a favor and tell me next time you leave work pieces out here? I don't want to toss another prized 'schticky friend' by accident. Did that once to Germany - _totally_ a bad idea."

"Ah, um…It's okay." He shakes his head a little, taking Poland's hand and drawing him up from the swing. He smirks a little. "Come inside? I'll play with _your_ 'schticky friend'."

Poland grins, letting the blanket fall. It's supposed to be nice tomorrow, so he doesn't bother to grab anything from the table. Besides, there are more pressing matters to attend to.


	2. The Sleepless Ones

Thank you for reading and reviewing! We adore hearing from you.

**Chapter Summary:** Pushed to the breaking point, England abandons an increasingly desperate France. Meanwhile, China and Russia have a disagreement that ends in blood - just not in the way one might expect.

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Ch. 2: The Sleepless Ones

October 30, 12:00 AM

He has not slept in an age, it seems, though it is really more like two weeks. Tonight he isn't sleeping either - not for anything in the world. Swallowing another cold mouthful of tea, England paces through his magic lab and tries to think of a way to block himself from dreaming. If he dreams, he will be trapped by the long, nimble talons of a man - a _creature_ - that knows well how to use them. He's angry with that creature. Very angry. And fed up with taking care of the mystical creatures of this world. Norway can have them all now, he wants no part of it! Flipping through his most reliable spell book, he continues his search for a sleeping drought that will protect him from every advance France can (literally) dream up.

Unfortunately for England, France is already lounging on his couch, watching him pace with a smirk. Granted, the smirk is beginning to take on a desperate edge. The rose in his hand has already begun to blacken, and that is a very, very bad sign. When all the petals have changed from red to black, there will be no spell in the world to stop him from transforming into a monster. "Come, Angleterre, you know this will only make things worse."

"Shut up, you ingrate!" England paces faster now, swallowing more tea and then tossing the mug back into the sink. He'll fill it up later, when France starts touching him again. He'll need something to distract himself. "Just - Just leave me alone! I want nothing more to do with you!"

"Oh come now, cheri, we both know that is not true! Just look at you, all flushed and jittery. Why, you would think you had never done this before!" France sits up, draping himself over the back of the couch so that his shirt falls open. "If you want to play that game, I can be gentle."

"I said go away!" England cries out, pacing to the far side of the room where he keeps all his stored potions. "Leave me alone, go find another partner! You've got the whole rest of the world, just leave me be!"

"You know I cannot." France says seriously, hoping that a little less seduction might work on his stiff friend/lover/enemy. It doesn't seem to. "You're my _favorite_," he adds, coating every word with honey. "You're so close by, and you understand, you know what it means for me."

England's resolve cannot waver, and yet it does. His shoulders shake and sag, because he _does_ understand. However, he can't be the one to deal with it any longer. "I can't, Francis. I can't be a part of this. You're driving me mad, you're all driving me mad! I need you to leave. I won't be your...your partner any longer!"

That sends France into a panic. He jumps over the edge of the couch and rushes to England, wrapping his arms around him and kissing all down his neck. "But mon cher, mon amour! Where am I to go? Norway has a mind of steel, and no one else knows! No one but Gilbert, and he is gone. I cannot stand the thought of another seeing me like that. Please," he drops to his knees, "_please_!"

Oh Good Lord, the sight of France on his knees like that, the kisses, the way his hands are clinging to his clothes... "I can't, I can't!" England has to run, flee, get himself away and _STAY AWAKE_, because the moment he falls asleep he may give in.

"Arthur!" France shouts after him. But the man is running down the hall, and he is sure England will disappear if he tries to catch him. Damn it all. Maybe he can try talking to Norway; no, that venture is likely to be even _less_ successful than this. Maybe a nice round of regular sex will cool things down enough to tide him over? There _should _be plenty of nations around for that. On the other hand, when he goes through his mental list it seems like most of his usual lovers are unavailable. Spain is dealing with Romano (apparently something very strange is going on there). Prussia is dead.

Perhaps it's time for France to take a trip across the ocean, then, and hope the North American boys are not experiencing any of the oddities that have been plaguing the rest of them.

XXX

China has been sitting here, waiting in the darkness, for over two hours. His only movement, the tapping of his finger, is a signal to all that he should only be disturbed upon his command. Unless, of course, Russia arrives. Russia may freely disturb him. But Hong Kong, who has been living with him since he left England's house, knows better than to simply leave him be. Every tap means something. Every sigh means something. It takes knowing the right taps, the right sighs, to satisfy Yao Wang. At the right taps, he'd brought him dim sum and a glass of wine. At the right sighs, he'd brought him a foot rest and a blanket. Now, all that could satisfy China would be Russia.

Russia was up late, prowling around to remind his pack to be ready, and to whom they really belong. Now that he's finished marking their dens, he has come to reclaim his mate. He pauses by the gate to piss on the post; it's been too long, and the place is starting to smell of other things. Most prevalent, of course, is that of his lover: sharp, floral, and with a tinge of iron-sweetness. He does not bother to knock or to ask where China is. He knows.

China hears him outside his window. Smells him: snow and earth. Urine. Vodka. He sits back in his chair and waits for him to come, to explain himself. Explain why he smells of Polish Poppies and Estonian brown bread. Dragging his tongue over his lower lip, tasting his last taste of wine, Yao taps at the arm rest three times, and watches Hong Kong move to the door.

Kaoru pulls the door open, kind of glaring at Mr. ScaryScarf. "What?"

Russia snarls and pushes past him. His mate is seated, looking at him with a hint of a frown around those bright lips. He smiles and goes on one knee to kiss his hand. He can smell a drop of wine between his fingers and laps at it. "Mine."

China allows him a moment of hope, of grace. One second of belief that he is not in very, very serious trouble. Then he yanks his hand away and _slaps_ Russia's cheek, watching his face turn at a nearly unnatural angle with the force. That felt far too good. He continues to watch his face impassively as it turns back to him.

Russia growls low in his throat. In a few more nights, he might've taken a hand for that - even China's. But for now he still has the presence of mind to only glare and show his teeth. "That was not very nice, or very wise."

China's blood boils. He does not move, only stares at his lover with ink-black eyes, all ice. "I am not feeling very nice. And obviously I still want you, so I am not wise."

"You are hungry, then?" Russia asks, a bit more gently. China is never nice when he is too hungry. Perhaps he kept him waiting too long.

"_Two_ _hours_, Ivan!" China gets up, gliding past him and toward the window where he can peer out at the moon. "Of _course_ I'm hungry. And tired. And very annoyed with the fact that you smell like you've rolled in Polish Poppies."

Russia smirks. "I did. And then I pissed on them." China does not look like he finds that so amusing, so he tempers his expression. "Come, my little bat. I do not mean to make you angry. I had territories to reclaim. I must remind them who is alpha, da?"

China glares at his reflection quite fixedly, crossing his arms over his chest. Then he relents, going honey around the edges as he turns. He knows he should not fight with Russia so close to the moon. It was silly to be upset, but he does not like that his lover feels such a need to claim that stupid Lithuania. "I do not see why they must be reminded, aru." He moves toward him, his voice like silk. "It is no contest."

This tone is much better. Still very dangerous, but that's the way Russia prefers it. "Ever since they became independent, they get silly ideas. You understand, I am sure." He glances sidelong at Hong Kong. "Lithuania especially, now that he has a mate of his own."

China sends Hong Kong a steely glare, and the boy immediately grabs his jacket. He will be of no use tonight. Once he is gone China allows himself to move closer, arms slowly wrapping around Russia's neck. "I do not think you need Lithuania." He glares a little, pouting. "And is not fair."

Russia sighs. "He is pack, Yao. I will never let him go; is too dangerous for them on their own - and for everyone else. We must take care of our families, da?" He presses a kiss to the top of China's head. "You, you are strong. You are mine, and I am _yours_. Is different."

China nods, feeling quite satisfied with the way Ivan says _'yours_'. His hands slide lower and he pulls Russia a little closer by the waist. "I hope so, aru. I am not wanting to make a meal out of your puppy. He would taste disgusting." Leaning up, he presses a shallow kiss to his lips, forcing Russia to deepen it himself, take what he needs.

Russia has learned to be careful when kissing China - at least, a hungry China. He doesn't like to cut his tongue, because that makes it hard to eat. But for the moment, the fangs are away and he can happily ravish that sweet mouth. He tries very hard to keep it delicate, because when he does not it gets sloppy. China does not like 'dog kisses'.

China groans softly, the taste of Russia setting his fangs on edge. He enjoys his tongue far more than he would ever admit, but right now, just tasting this man is making him remember how hungry he is. He drags Russia over to the chair and pushes him down, sliding into his lap and slowly unwinding his scarf. "Thank you, baby," he says in advance, licking over the spot he intends to bite - one of their favorites.

Russia is already groaning as he tilts his head to the side, giving China the space to play. China is the only one who is allowed to remove his scarf, and this is the reason why. "My pleasure."

China licks over the skin one more time before his teeth emerge and he sinks them into the already-scarred flesh. Blood, life, pours into his mouth and he swallows it all, loving that it's Ivan's. Beneath him, the man groans with the forbidden pleasure of it, every suck sending wave after wave through him. This is perfection.

There's an instant of pain so sharp it has Russia gripping China's arms, followed rapidly by pleasure that has him holding tighter. He practically squirms beneath him. China groans, taking what he needs until he is entirely sated.

Russia sinks back, dizzy and panting, while China licks the wound until all that remains are a tiny pair of scars. "_That_ is why I go to my pack first."

China grins, licking his lips and taking a long lick up to Russia's ear. He nips the shell, teasing. "Don't take so long next time." He ruts down against him, his cock dragging up against Russia's. It feels delicious; makes him want to take advantage of his beautiful wolf in this vulnerable state. "Will you let me taste the rest of you this time?"

"As you wish." Russia reaches out, his hand dragging lazily through China's hair. There's a little trail of blood on the vampire's chin. He smirks and drags his first finger through it, holding it up for him to see. "You are getting messy."

China laughs, leaning in to lick over his lower lip. "I am allowed to be messy if you are allowed to piss on my porch."

Russia nips at him. "Is my part of the curse. Your porch did not _smell_ right."

"Perhaps it is because I had Kiku over for tea this afternoon," China says in a voice that is all innocence, even though he knows _exactly_ how Russia feels about that particular relationship.

A low growl confirms the violent jealousy that slithers through Russia's system. The reaction would be even more obvious if he hadn't just lost a good 2 quarts of blood. On the other hand, the logical part of his mind is reminding him that if he has his pack, China is allowed to have his own and see them as he wishes. Not that he must like it.

Satisfied, China slithers down Russia' body, intent on sucking the _other_ life-force out of his body. All of it.


	3. The Sorcerer and the Imp

Happy Halloween lovelies!

**PLEASE NOTE:** The original version of this chapter contains explicit smut. It has been edited for the rules of FF so that you are not missing any major plot points. We have marked the edited/missing section with: **+XXX+**. **If you would like to read the full version, it is available on AO3! There is a link in our profile.**

**Chapter Summary:** Norway's preparations for All Hallows' Eve are interrupted by Denmark. Thankfully, the interruption turns out to be a very pleasant one.

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.

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Ch. 3: The Sorcerer and the Imp

October 30, 9:00 AM

There's nothing to be done; no way to stagger or stem the flood that's coming. Norway has checked every one of his books and consulted with the few other experts who are available. Unfortunately, England has been almost completely drained by that damn incubus and Romania has, apparently, gotten stuck in an alternate dimension.

Norway shakes his head. He needs to start sending notices out, rounding up the ones that will be the most dangerous once the moon is full. With this task in mind, he heads downstairs - only to find himself stumbling as the fifth step gives out beneath his feet. He falls with a cry, just managing to catch himself on the railing.

"Dude! Your _face_!" Denmark laughs. He's been waiting for Norge to come down the stairs for a good ten, twenty minutes. His face is absolutely priceless. Best gag yet.

"Mattias! You could have killed me!" Norway glares at him, one hand still clutching the railing and the other over his thundering heart.

"I know!" He laughs louder, leaning on the table as he tries to calm himself down. "Know what would've be even _more_ hilarious? If you'd been naked."

Norway glowers. Denmark drives him up the wall, but, technically, it's not his fault. Well it is, but it's just in his nature. Imps live for mischief. It was either live with him and try to enjoy his good points, or release all of the imp's dangerous jokes on a world that is already full of supernatural dangers. He sighs and carefully works his way around the false step, testing each below it. "Matt. Please listen, this is important. I need you to be _good_ today; at least keep the pranks to a minimum. I'm very busy, and if anything goes wrong the consequences could be disastrous. So if you _want_ to see me naked..."

"…I should just do this?" Denmark reaches over, pulls the loose thread on Norway's pants, and watches them fall to tatters around his ankles. The sound Norge makes when those pants fall makes him go into hysterics. He drops his head to the table, laughing like he's on something, because this has to be his favorite prank yet. On the other hand, he says that about all of them.

Norway squeaks, turning bright red. Thankfully, he still has his underwear. He shakes the remaining fabric from his feet and thwaps Denmark on the back of his head. "Idiot. That's all you're getting."

Denmark rubs the back of his head as Norge walks past him into the kitchen. Oh well. That's a fine ass to think about later. Yawning a little, he stretches out on a chair and throws his feet onto the other. "So, what's the big deal?"

For a moment Norway pauses, considering the kind of damage the imp could do with such information. Then again, Denmark _is_ just about the only one he can be honest with. He needs...well, he just might need the extra hand (although it's more likely he'll end up wrapping Denmark in iron chains and leaving him in a church). "The full moon, the tomato harvest, and All Hallow's Eve are all falling on the same night."

"Oh... Like... What?" Denmark raises his eyebrows, completely not understanding. 'Busy night,' is about as much as he can gather. Norge likes to hold these meetings on full moons sometimes. That must be it. "Are you afraid nobody's gonna come over?"

"No, I'm afraid _everyone_ is going to come over. Everyone, with all their problems, all in one place. It's going to be more trouble than even _you_ can imagine. I think I'm going to need to call in some help." He sighs. England hasn't been taking his calls for a while now. Ever since that one night, when Arthur threw up his hands and told him he'd had he enough, he hasn't done much in the way of looking after the world's ...creatures.

"Oh. Par-tay." Denmark grins, feeling better now that he knows what has Norway feeling all bothered. Getting the house clean, probably. Heh - he'll have to 'help' with that. But for now, it's time to make nice. He gets up and strides closer, hands sliding around Norway's pale, well-muscled thighs to drag themselves up beneath the leg holes of his underwear. "But hey. I guess that means I'll have to use this precious time alone with you wisely."

Norway stiffens, then squirms as the hands brush against more sensitive places. "H-hey Matt, not now, I have to-!" On second thought, that feels quite nice, and it _would_ be a good idea to relieve some of the tension before things get crazy. "I...we should...make it quick."

Denmark smirks, his lips coming down to ruthlessly bite the shell of his ear. "No," he murmurs against, and Norge practically melts against his chest. "I'm going to take my sweet, sweet time, dude."

"Oh..." Teeth. Those teeth that nibble and never quite break the skin, always _exactly_ where they should be...fucking imps. Despite the chaos Matt causes, when he gets like this Lukas almost always gives in. It's resulted in more than one wasted evening. "We should go somewhere else. I don't want to do it in the kitchen. I've still got burns from last time. You are _terrible_ luck in the kitchen."

"I'm terrible luck everywhere." Mattias chuckles. His lips move down to Luk's pulse, nipping it as though it's his to command. "But I'm a great fuck either way."

Lukas can't deny that, so he settles for a soft, pleasant sigh. He rocks gently back against him, moving one arm back to caress Matt's side. For some reason, he's fond of the bastard - and it's not just because of the sex. "Where do you want to...?"

Guiding Luk gently to face him, Matt kisses his mouth, enjoying the way they press together. He slides his hands up his back and rests his palm on the back of Luk's neck, cradling his skull as he pulls him in tight. "Den's closest." He smirks, pulling back a little. "How long's it been since we fucked on that couch?"

Lukas rolls his eyes, but smiles. "Two nights ago." A rare occasion, during which he was the one interrupting Matt's work. All he had to do was lean in the doorway wearing nothing but one of his lover's hockey jerseys, and the imp was his. He kisses Matt's lips and starts walking him back towards that room. "Remember? I'd been trying to come up with a solution for Arthur. You try dealing with an incubus all day and not ending up horny."

"Is that another word for 'hard-on'?" Matt asks seriously, because he has no idea what an incubus is and he doesn't really care. He remembers two nights ago, though, with Luk in his favorite jersey, sliding into his lap as though he meant to stake a claim. It was so sexy, he wishes the security feed caught it. "If it's yours, I'm there."

This time the eye roll is less amused. The other reason Luk can trust Matt not to talk about the nations' other, less humanoid sides is because he never remembers what they are. "Incubus. It's a sex demon. Rather similar to you, imp, except their favorite mischief is to go into people's dreams..." he taps his fingers against Matt's forehead, then slides a hand through his hair, drawing their lips close enough to kiss. "...and have sex with them. Lots and lots of dirty sex, any way you can imagine. Even some that are not physically possible, from what I hear."

"Mmm... So, you're an incubus, right?" Matt leans in, nibbling on his lower lip as he steers them toward the couch. The funny thing about Luk is that he babbles about this sort of thing a lot. Most of the time, Matt just wonders if he has a couple screws loose and lets it roll in one ear and out the other. This, however, is sexy. "Slipping into my dreams and demanding a good, hard screw?" And leaving before he wakes. That's another thing about Luk. He loves the sex, or so it seems. But he's never really expressed any fondness for him outside of it. Not that he's noticed.

"No, I'm just the one they call in to handle it all now that England's gone off the deep end. It's rather stressful having someone feeding off your energy all the time." He gives Matt a look. "Good thing I don't have anyone like that around."

Matt grins, pushing him to the couch and watching with delight as he sprawls out perfectly, long pale legs parting just for him. He steps between them. "Good thing." He chuckles, unbuttoning his shirt while Lukas watches. He knows how good he looks shirtless. "I don't think you could stand getting any crazier."

Luk's eyes travel down the line of Matt's chest, following his fingers. "Pity. I thought that was what we were going for?" He can't help smiling, just a little. "I was hoping to stop thinking about the rest of the world for at least an hour." He grabs the tie still wrapped around Matt's neck and pulls, dragging him in.

Mattias follows the pull, grinning into the kiss and sliding his hands up Norge's shirt. When he feels his tie being tugged free of its knot, he lets out a rough sound and pulls back from the kiss. "Hey. Don't steal." He snatches the tie away, one hand skimming back down Luk's stomach to trace cool fingers down his inner thighs. When Luk tries to take apart his shirt, he gets an idea. "Pushy," he mutters against his mouth, grabbing one wrist and then the other. He pulls back to wrap his tie around them in a figure-eight, knotting it tight.

For a moment Lukas tries to look annoyed, but a whine of need betrays him. That, and the twitch of his erection. He has a...a _thing_ for Matt's ties. The man looks damn sexy in a suit, and they work well as a leash – for binding, too. He reaches up with his mouth instead, tugging Matt's collar with his teeth. "Off. Take it off."

"Shit-!" Matt gasps, his eyes widening at the spark of want in Luk's eyes, the way he's going at his collar with his _teeth_. Well, well. He kinda guessed he had a thing for his ties, but this much of a thing? He moves fast, groaning softly as those teeth cut into his throat. Isn't tying someone up supposed to put _you_ in control?

Lukas follows the line of his throat, scraping his teeth along the skin until he closes them with a snap at the base, sucking hard to leave a mark. Since he can't use his hands, he'll have to get creative. He wraps one leg around Matt's, forcing him to fall onto the couch with him, and starts dragging his foot up and down his calf.

Matt throws his shirt off, making another noise as Norge sucks his pulse, making him squirm. Now that he's not busy taking off his shirt, he can do other things. His hands skim up Luk's chest, pushing his shirt to his collarbone and dragging cool, shaky fingers around his nipples, bringing them to stiff, aching points. "You're so hot when you're hot for me."

"Can't help it," Luk hisses, arching against him. "You make me want you so bad; maybe _you're_ part incubus." He trails his tongue down to Matt's nipples, giving each a light, teasing lick before moving back to suck on the other side of his neck.

Matt can't help it either. Whatever this thing is between them, he's pretty sure he's the one in way over his head. But he takes the compliment in stride, his breath stuttering at each touch to his nipples and coming out in a sigh as that devilish mouth latches onto his neck. "I wish. I wish I could make you want me." He really does. If he knew how he managed it half the time, Luk would be his, twenty-four/seven.

"I'd rather I wanted you of my own free will. And at the moment I do, so you had better do something about it." He goes back to Mattias' nipples, nipping and sucking on the one. His leg moves higher, pressing a foot against Matt's ass as though he means to use his toes to pull his pants off.

+XXX+

Mattias doesn't stop kissing Luk until he's limp against him, as if he might fall asleep at any second. With a sigh, he pulls away and presses his face into Luk's shoulder. After a couple minutes of breathing, he presses his lips into his collarbone. "No chance you'll sleep this off with me, is there?"

Lukas sighs. He'd like to. He feels like he could drift off and forget the world. But, _someone_ has to round up all the dangerous creatures before tomorrow night. He kisses Matt and shifts, squirming out from under him. "I can't."

Mattias groans, sliding up to pull out, watching himself spill onto the couch a little. "Well, you have to shower." He grins, taking Luk's hand and pulling him into his arms as he stands. It's so weird, feeling him this close after sex. Normally he's so quick to distance himself he leaves skid marks.

Luk rolls his eyes, but goes willingly. "I suppose we both do."

With a smirk Matt pulls him out of the den, through the kitchen where they started, past the broken staircase and into the one bathroom he _hasn't_ booby-trapped yet.


	4. Blehmew!

Hello lovelies! We have a particularly fun chapter for you today. Hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter Summary**: During a visit to Greece, Japan realizes that there is something wrong with his kittens - and it is clearly China's fault.

* * *

Ch. 4: Blehmew!

October 30, 12:40 PM

It began with a visit from China. As a fan of all things cute, China liked to see the kitties that crowded around Greece on a fairly regular basis, especially when he was "tired of dealing with mangy, stubborn, faithless dogs". Greece hadn't understood that part, but the last visit was odd in a number of ways. China had gotten very close to him and stated how hungry he was. For a while Greece was pretty sure they were going to have sex, which was fine with him. But they never did. China just kissed his neck, freaked out, and started apologizing. He'd shrugged and gone for more snacks. When he came back a couple kittens looked like they weren't breathing, but China played with them some more, letting them nibble his fingers, and they'd perked right up. The trouble is, now they are nibbling _his_ fingers.

Greece blinks, a noise from the front door breaking into his thoughts. He's feeling sleepier than usual lately, and he is fairly certain he's been seeing things. Like flying cats.

"Hera-chan?" Japan calls, letting himself in after politely knocking and waiting for Greece to respond. "I brought some food!"

Greece rolls so that he can see the doorway. "Oh. How nice." Once Japan is close enough he pokes at him, just to make sure he's really there.

Japan raises an eyebrow. Greece is on the floor, half-naked, and poking at his foot. There is a cat sucking on his thigh. _SUCKING ON HIS THIGH_! "Hera!" He cries out, grabbing the kitten and sweeping it into his arms, not caring as it hisses and yowls angrily at him. "BAD! Bad kitty!"

Greece frowns, watching the little pinprick bites on his leg disappear. "It's okay, he's just playing. They've been getting antsy lately. Maybe some of the girls are going into heat."

Japan gasps as the kitten flies out of his hands and perches on the fridge, glaring down at him and licking its paw. His eyes scan the room... three, no four others. And they're all hanging upside down like bats from the ceiling fan. "Seen Yao lately?"

"Yes. Why? Did he say something?" Hera is fairly certain that Kiku would not approve of even the prospect of sex with Yao. He starts to sit up in order to defend himself, and the world spins. Huh. He's been getting a few of these dizzy spells lately.

"Hera!" Kiku drops to his knees, gently lowering Heracles back to the floor. His temperature is quite low; that's not an encouraging sign. "He's... Ah... Well..." He reaches up to the counter and pulls down his thermos of tea. "Here. Drink this."

Greece drinks, for Kiku's tea is always delicious. It helps his head clear, too. "Thanks. It's weird, I don't know why that keeps happening. I hope I'm not getting sick." With Kiku's help he is able to make it to his feet, and one of the kitties from the ceiling glides down to land on his shoulder. It rubs his cheek affectionately until he scratches it, and then it starts purring.

Kiku glares at the kitten. It gives him a sly little look, purring against Hera's throat. "Oh no you don't." He growls, lifting the cat and dropping it on the counter. He sets Hera down in a chair at the table and starts practically force-feeding him. "You need soup! And dumplings! And... and I have some bulgogi here."

Greece pets the kitten on the table. It blinks at him with pretty little red eyes and he smiles back. "Aren't they sweet? I bet I could sic them on Turkey, with a bit of training. That would be fun. They seem to really like red, raw meat, though they lick it more than eat it. Strange."

"Ah..." Japan shoves a dumpling into Greece's mouth. "There's something you should know about Yao. He's not exactly an average nation. At all. I made him promise not to hurt you, however..." He glares at the kitten, yet he can't help but melt when it rubs against his hand.

Does this mean Kiku knows about the almost-sex? Maybe Yao likes it very rough. That would explain his relationship with Ivan. "It's okay. I don't think I'd mind so much," says Heracles.

Kiku gasps, drawing his hands away. "Did... Did he...?" He reaches over to check for scars. It seems the kittens have been everywhere. Thankfully, none of the marks are bigger than a kitten's mouth.

Hera swallows. He probably shouldn't say anything, but if Kiku already knows _something_ about the incident, he shouldn't hide the truth from him. "No, but we got...close."

"Oh My God, Hera!" Kiku cries out, pulling him into a hug. He couldn't stand it if Yao did to Hera what he'd done to him so many times. Yao doesn't even _care_ about Hera! What if he slipped up and drank too much? He'd lose Heracles forever. "Please, don't ever, ever let him! I couldn't stand to lose you!"

Greece returns the hug, shocked by how much it means to him. "You wouldn't lose me. I like you best of all."

Japan sighs into his neck, his hands sliding into Greece's hair as he pulls away to kiss him, worry tinting every sweep of his tongue. "It doesn't matter." He looks over his shoulder and finds three cats now on the table, watching him with red eyes. Two others are on the ceiling light, and one more is flying upside down above their heads. Six, then. "Yao's... urges. Sometimes they go too far. You must be safe, Hera."

Greece chuckles, offering deeper kisses in return. "I lived with Sadik. I can handle Yao. I bet his urges aren't nearly as weird."

Considering the fact that just this morning Turkey had him wear a costume that resembled a harem girl while hand-feeding him sushi and warm milk, Japan isn't going to argue. However, while Turkey's habits are strange, they are not dangerous. He shakes his head. "Yao is a vampire. And it appears he's been snacking on your kitties."

"So he likes to bite during sex?" That kitties are involved...well, the kitties always end up watching, but that's largely because they can't be bothered to leave. Greece shrugs. "Sometimes Sadik used the cat'o'nine tails."

"No. Literally, a vampire- Wait. What are you talking about?" Japan jolts up, hands tacking themselves to his hips. "Did you have _sex_ with him?!"

Greece raises an eyebrow. "I already told you, no, we never actually did. Isn't that what you were talking about?"

"_NO_!" Japan steps back and throws up his hands, scaring the kitties into flight. "You almost _had sex with him_?! And then he turned your kitties and left, is that right?! I don't believe this! I should've stayed at Sadik's!"

Greece reaches after him, catching Japan's shoulder thanks to a flurry of flying kitties. "I don't understand. You mean the kitties are...you were at _Sadik's_?! You...you had sex with HIM! Why are you upset with me for something I didn't do, when you're the one actually screwing that bastard!"

"I'm upset, because he's a _vampire_!" Japan whines, taking hold of Greece's hand. "A vrykolka? Literally. He's been sucking blood longer than I have been alive. And _my_ blood, too!"

Greece tilts his head, feeling that he should be a great deal more upset by this. Mostly he feels sort of lethargic. "A vampire? Really? Huh." He shakes his head. "But...you had SEX with SADIK?!"

Japan groans, dropping his head back and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Like you haven't?" he says, reaching up to feel Greece's forehead before getting up and yanking open the fridge.

Greece opens his mouth, then closes it. He could counter with the fact that he's slept with a lot of people, so arguably the occasion(s) with Turkey counted less for him. But that will just get him into more trouble. He reaches for a kitty, kissing at it until it climbs into his lap.

"Blehmew!"

"BAD kitty!" Japan snatches the kitten out of Greece's fingers, glaring at it as it hisses, baring its fangs. "You need sugar. And food. Drink this." He hands Greece a bottle of apple juice, still searching the fridge until he comes across the remains of a sandwich.

"I called her, it's okay for her to sit. We just need to train them to bite Sadik instead. They're only babies, they don't know any better." Greece drinks the juice anyway, playing with the kitties between sips.

Kiku shoves the sandwich into Hera's hand. "You can't train them if they think they can eat you!"

"You can train anything. Even Sadik - with the correct incentive." Hera puts the sandwich down and picks up a kitty, cuddling it against his chest to keep it safe from Kiku. "Yao didn't bite me. So there's hope."

"Yao didn't bite you because I threatened to chop his balls off last time he tried," Kiku snaps, turning to the cabinets to see if there's soup or something he can heat up. Heracles needs more nutrients than that sandwich can give him. Physically and mentally, apparently. "You have Yao over for lunch, and you get upset because I sleep with Sadik? Honestly, you have no room to talk about bad company."

"It's different!" Hera argues. "Sadik's a bastard. Yao's...a vampire, apparently. Lunch is different than sex." He glowers, petting the kitty. This one is a little tamer. It rubs against him, but doesn't even try to take a nibble. "Good kitty! You're just hungry, right? We'll find you something."

"Blehpurrrr," says the kitten, kneading Mine's veins.

"As if you never sleep with anyone else! I can't even count the number of times I've caught you _with_ Sadik! At least I don't throw stones. Yao is different, Hera! He doesn't need to sleep with you to _get_ to you." He glares at one a grey kitten that is getting too close, making it change direction very fast. He has to help Hera come back from his blood loss. The rest of this can wait. "Eat your sandwich. And _do not_ let that kitten bite you. I mean it."

Greece takes the sandwich. "M'sorry it upsets you so much. But it's not the poor kitties' fault. We should find them a nice fat rat." As if on cue, a little black kitten darts from the ceiling to drop a bloodless rat on the table, very proud of herself.

Japan sighs, knowing it's somewhat useless to fight right now. He crouches by Greece, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's not their fault. I'm sorry too."


	5. Trolled

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Since we don't make this clear until later, **Finland is a tonttu **from Finnish mythology, which is very similar to the brownie in English/Scottish folklore. They're fairy/elf type creatures that protect and care for the home.

**Chapter Summary:** Finland discovers evidence that Sweden may be cheating on him, and goes to Estonia for advice. Estonia and Latvia consider their options for the full moon: a cage, or dangerous freedom?

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Ch. 5: Trolled

October 30th, 1:00 PM

It takes only one sweep of a Swiffer mop to turn Finland's day from perfectly pleasant to a full-scale disaster. He isn't expecting it, because he's made a thousand or so sweeps today (and the day before, and the day before that one too). He's cleaning the master suite now while Sweden takes a shower, and when he pushes the mop under the bed something rolls out.

At first he thinks it's a coin, but…no, it doesn't look like his coins or Sweden's. He bends down, frowning at it, and realizes it's an earring. An _earring_. Why is there an earring on their bedroom floor? His ears are not pierced, and neither are Sweden's.

Earring in hand, he rises to his feet and brings it over to the little table by the window. Who wears earrings? Who wears earrings _in their bedroom_?

He stares at the trinket, his mind leaping to all sorts of conclusions. Then he hears the shower stop and gasps, suddenly terrified. He snatches it from the table, stuffing it in his pocket. He can't let Sweden know what he's found, not yet. Not until he decides how to confront him.

Down the hall, Sweden is staring into the mirror. His skin is getting all rough, and it's not just from the weather. How is he going to hide this? He supposes he'll just have to refuse to be naked around Finland until it's passed. He starts getting dressed, hoping he can pass off the scaliness of his face as dry skin.

The door opens, and Sweden comes out wearing his long, cozy flannel pajamas. Finland always thought those were adorable. But right now, he averts his eyes and starts scrubbing the floor like he's trying to wear a dent in it. He needs a reason to get out of here. Maybe he can visit Estonia? They haven't really talked in a while, and that's a good enough excuse. He puts the mop aside and pulls out his cell phone, dialing fast.

"Hey Eddie! I just realized it's been _ages _since we hung out. How about we go grab some lunch together?" He shoots a glance at Bernie, who is staring at the floor with an odd... non-expression. "Oh…no, I understand if you don't want to go out. But I _really_ want to see you!" He emphasizes the words, trying to make his friend understand. "Your place? That sounds perfect! I'll be there as soon as I can." He hangs up, pasting on a cheery little smile and giving the floor one last meaningless swipe.

"Y're goin' out?" asks Sweden, not sure what to make of the strangeness in Finland's tone.

Finland jumps; he'd been hoping the phone call was enough, that he could slip out unnoticed. "Yeah!" He turns around, a wide smile plastered on his face. "Lunch at Eduard's. You know. Just us. We haven't seen each other in a while. I just... Have to change my shirt!" He practically flees into the closet.

What worries Sweden isn't the look so much as the fact that he left out the Swiffer. Finland _never_ forgets to put something away. He picks up the mop himself and returns it to the closet, eyeing his wife. "Y'feelin' okay?"

"Fine!" says Finland, turning around only to realize that Sweden has him backed into the closet. Oh God. He doesn't even know what to do. "I'm fine. Totally good. Just... Gotta meet Eddie. You know how he is." He rips the coral pinstripe shirt off the hanger, grabbing a steel grey vest that matches his trousers rather nicely.

Sweden raises an eyebrow. "Y'sure? No one's been bothering y', have they? Heard Ivan's been sniffin' around."

"I'm _Fine_," he snaps, his voice edged like glass. Breathing in slowly, and then out again, he closes his eyes for a millisecond and buttons his vest. "Totally fine. All is right with the world. What could possibly be wrong?"

Sweden reaches out toward him, but realizes his nails are getting longer and snatches the hand back. Will it be too obvious if he wears gloves? "Well, if y'need anything. M'here."

"I don't need anything, but thanks!" Finland says it too fast, too callous, and he slips past his husband as though he's no more than a concerned friend or a stranger. Does he really _know_ Sweden anymore? He can't think about it. He flees, hoping Estonia has something stronger than tea around.

XXX

The house Eduard and Raivis share these days is a complete mess, messier than any other home Tino has cleaned in the last forty-eight hours. He's been working off his frustration and avoiding Bernie, but he can't get the shakes to leave his blood. He needs to talk to somebody. So he's here five hours later, _still_ talking to Eddie about absolutely nothing and polishing his bedroom furniture (he's vacuumed, dusted, mopped, and scrubbed down everything else).

"...so, I said I just couldn't _believe_ the state of his tile. I mean, I was like 'Toni, the green is not grout. It's mold. And it's going to eat your flesh if you don't kill it now.' It was disgusting." He slides the rag over the headboard, smiling as the polish makes the wood shine like new.

Eduard is feeling rather shaky himself, but for different reasons. The smell of the cleaning products bothers him. It's getting rid of _their_ smell, and it makes his nostrils itch. But he won't say anything, because he can tell Tino is upset. It's best to let him chatter on until the truth comes out.

"I just couldn't believe it." Tino can't believe anything these days. He can feel his eyes pricking with tears, but he lets out a soft growl and rubs them away with the back of his sleeve, scrubbing polish harder into the wood. "I just…I can't _believe _he'd…"

Estonia sits on the floor so he can scratch at the back of his head with his foot. He's gotten the general story in bits and pieces. He can't believe it either. "There must be some sort of mistake. I mean...he's your mate. Mates are for life."

"I thought so too," Finland growls, not even realizing he hasn't mentioned the actual issue. "There must be some kind of mistake, some kind of fluke, because _I_ don't..." He trails off, his fingers digging into the bed beneath him. "But how else would it _GET THERE_?"

"What, exactly, did you find?" asks Estonia. Sex toys or underwear might just indicate a kinkier side of Sweden than he _ever_ wanted to imagine. But something in the wrong size, or something, ah, used, might make things worse.

Finland breathes in, preparing himself to say it, then lets out the breath because he can't. It takes him a moment to get it out, like he's been holding his breath against a foul odor. "An earring." The word rolls off his tongue, through his teeth, hard like a marble. "Under the bed. Under _his_ side."

Estonia frowns, but tries to keep his expression otherwise blank. That _is_ compromising. Sweden doesn't wear earrings, at least not that he's seen. Neither does Tino. He tries to think of who _does_ have piercings. Netherlands, maybe. Hungary. England when he's going through a 'punk' phase. ...Denmark. "O-oh. Well. You _do_ have a lot of parties, maybe someone was exploring your house or got lost when they were drunk."

"We lock our room during parties. _Lock_ it," he hisses, picking up the rag again. "I don't wear earrings. Very few people I let in our room wear earrings. But I don't know _who_ Bernie's been letting in our room. I don't know _who_ wears an ugly stone earring, unless they're trying to make some statement. I only know _one_ person who makes fashion statements." He lets that hang in the air, cutting a sidelong glance to Eddie, watching his face to see if he knows anything.

At that Eduard nearly laughs. "Just one? I'm thinking of fashion week in London, New York, Paris, Prague, Milan..."

Tino growls, "Well, only a few other people have been _married_ to my husband. That's all I can say." The thought makes him rub harder at the wood. There's nothing left to polish and he can't stop now, so he jumps from the bed.

Eduard backs up, hunkering low to the ground. Tino is downright scary sometimes, and he doesn't want to be the next one on his list of possible scumbags Berwald might be sleeping with. He can't imagine Feliks and Bernie _ever_ getting back together. It was enough of a problem the first time around, when they decided Eduard was going to be theirs too; bad bad bad. The start of so many problems. Not that they themselves were cruel to him, it was just...well. Ancient history. Besides, Toris can be just as possessive as Tino. If Feliks ever showed up smelling like Bernie, there would be blood.

Finland starts scrubbing the mattress frame, and that's when he peers beneath the bed and sees something that makes him smile, just for the sheer oddness of it. A little book lamp has been left on, illuminating a lumpy pillow in an old pillowcase, about eighteen shoes and slippers, and several stacks of paperback romances he happens to know involve many a gay love scene. There's also a bag of pretzels. "What the hell...?"

Estonia blushes scarlet. "Oh. Um, Raivis-" A door slams downstairs, followed by feet pounding up the steps. He sighs. "We're in here, Raiv! Tino came over to...chat. And clean."

Latvia shakes a leaf from his hair, pausing when he finds them both kneeling by the bed and peering under. Oh. He blushes hard, fiddling awkwardly in the doorway. "What?" He asks, as though the question isn't obvious.

Finland smiles a little wider, cocking his head to the side and giving the boy a look. "Looks like a pretty sweet set-up under hear, Raiv." He reaches under the bed, pulling out a yellow, fluffy slipper with a smiley face on it. "But this is... Dirty."

With a low, heavy growl, Latvia snatches the bright yellow slipper from Finland before he can get any of that nasty smelling polish on it. "It's fine!" He cuddles the slipper close to his chest, glaring softly at the two as he mutters, "_FluffyfluffysmellslikeEddie..._"

Finland raises an eyebrow at the boy, trying not to laugh. "Oh. Well. Oookay then." He coughs, looking toward Estonia's blushing face. "I'll just leave you to that, shall I?"

Eduard looks between the two, blushing darker. His own collection is hidden in the back of the closet. Locked. His thing isn't so much the shoes, but he really likes Raivis' t-shirts. Sometimes Toris' too, when he needs more familiarity. They're warm and soft and they smell like home. "Erm...he...likes shoes..."

Tino tries to smile wider, but, they're so in love. The smile fades the moment he realizes he doesn't have that anymore. He has to get out of here. It's starting to feel claustrophobic. "I think I have to..."

Eddie frowns. Tino practically smells of sadness, and it makes him want to put his chin on his lap and give him a kiss to make it better. However, Tino will probably not see that as platonically as he does. "Maybe you could talk to Lukas? They're friends, right?"

The look on Tino's face makes Raivis drop his slipper. He almost whimpers, but he doesn't know how to make him feel better, short of licking his face. He doesn't think that will help. "What's going on?"

"Nothing! I'm fine." He pushes past Eddie, heading for the door. It's too far away, in his opinion. "I'll call you tomorrow, if I can." He leaves, the sadness that creeps over him almost choking him on the way out.

Eduard glances back at Raivis, wondering if he should tell him the whole story. Maybe together they could figure something out. But, it's a problem for Tino and Bernie to discuss. He shakes his head and licks Raivis' cheek. "Don't worry about it."

Raivis pouts a little, leaning into Eddie and nuzzling his neck, pulling his arms around himself. "I heard he's been freaking out about something lately." He winces at the sound of the door slamming.

"It's Tino. There's always something," says Eduard. Though this...if Bernie really _was_ sleeping with someone, that would break Tino. Break them all. He hopes there's a better explanation. He's _sure_ there is. "We have our own issues to worry about. Like the smell at our gate, and how big the moon is getting."

Raivis sighs, nodding against his neck. They really do need to think about themselves. The moon is getting high and round. Soon it will be time to either lock themselves in Norway's basement, or go find their alpha. And that... that's a tough choice. "I brought steak for dinner."

"Sounds good." Estonia licks his lips, acutely aware that he's about to drool all over Latvia's shoulder. That's another problem they've been having. _Everything_ smells good when it's meat, including some of their friends. There's something inside him that is pure wolf; something that wants to run and hunt, to rip out a throat and taste blood, then roll around in the dirt for the sheer freedom of it. He shivers. He has to fight that urge, or he'll end up forgetting himself. "Lukas will come. He always does."

Latvia nods, pulling away and drawing Estonia toward the bed by his collar. "Use the time we've got, right?"

Estonia laughs, leaning into his neck. "You smell _amazing_."

"I may have been hunting rabbit." Latvia grins, tipping his head back and letting him smell. It was too easy to chase the thing into the woods and catch it. He hadn't killed it; he wouldn't let himself. That is for beasts. He isn't a beast... yet. "I've been thinking of you since I left you in bed this morning."

Estonia makes a noise in the back of his throat: a soft, low sigh of pleasure. "Then stop leaving me alone in our big, comfy bed."


	6. Poltergeist

Hello lovelies! Fair **warning** that there is some canoodling in this chapter, though it isn't very explicit.

**Chapter Summary:** Germany tries to ignore Prussia's ghost, but the awesome dead will not be denied.

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Ch. 6: Poltergeist

October 30, 4:00 PM

Italy is in Germany's kitchen, stirring a massive vat of tomato sauce, completely unaware of the change that is about to befall him. His change, like his brother's, comes once a decade or so. And, like his brother, he never really remembers it once he's back to normal.

Germany has other issues to worry about. His dead brother is following him about the house, demanding beer. "C'mon, West! Just shake it up and spray it on me! I'm _dying_ here...metaphorically speaking, kesese." He pokes Germany in the back of the head, his finger going right through. At least it still seems to annoy him.

It's a breeze, Germany tells himself. A breeze and his overactive imagination. He wheels around a corner, trying to drive the... the thing that is not there away, and heads into the dining room. There are baked, fried, and steamed tomatoes all set out on the table. He picks up a fried tomato and sniffs it.

"_Whoa_," says Prussia. "West, I think your little boyfriend's got a problem. I mean there's liking something, and then there's _liking_ something. He's got tomatophilia! Now then. BEER. Because at least I admit I'm an alcoholic."

"Oh, shut up," Germany mutters, nibbling the fried tomato. It's not bad with the breading. Leaning over the table, he reaches for another. Suddenly the table wobbles, his hand slips, and he winds up knocking his jaw on the table on the way to the floor.

"KESESESE! That's what you get for ignoring the AWESOME ME." Prussia has discovered that he can actually _channel_ his awesome into objects and make them move. It's not much at the moment, but with practice he'll get the beer to come to him. In the meantime, he can wobble tables and shake the bed whenever West is trying to fuck the pretty Italian.

Italy peaks out of the kitchen and spots poor Germany on the floor. "Oh Luddy!" he exclaims, rushing to help. He inspects Germany's head with tomato-coated fingers and kisses the bump on his chin. "You should be more careful, ve! Was it your back? I thought it was all better. It's been a while since you threw it out when we were having sex against the-"

While Italy continues to babble, Germany kicks his foot out and encounters... air. Of course. What was he expecting? This is all a product of his imagination, after all. He pushes Italy away and climbs to his feet. "Fine, fine. The table is just... lighter than I thought." He rests a hand on Italy's waist, drawing him in for a light kiss. "I see you have been cooking."

"Si! We are having a grand tomato feast! Tomatoes are an important part of every meal. Tomatoes and pasta!" He kisses Germany again, licking his lips. "You taste good. You _feel_ good." Another kiss, and his hand wanders low to leave a tomato-sauce print right over his crotch.

Germany makes a noise, pulling away from Italy's lips to look down at the handprint on his best pair of pants. That's going to stain. On the other hand, Italy's got a look in his eye that says if he protests the lovemaking he may lose an important piece of his anatomy, so he decides not to comment. "Well. You're in a good mood."

"Oh, very! I don't know why, but I feel all light and happy! And I really want tomatoes. And after the tomatoes, I want you." Italy pauses, tapping his chin. "Or should it be you and then the tomatoes? I don't want to be too full."

Germany laughs a little, and decides that he doesn't really care about these slacks anyway. Some things are far more important. "You can have the tomatoes after, Vene. We will work up an appetite, ja?"

"Whoa, hold on! There has to be beer before the sex! Beer for _me_. You have to appease the one haunting you, right?" Prussia smirks, coming up right behind Italy and hovering over his shoulders. "Or I could just give you a full commentary, _little_ bruder."

Italy waves his hand through the ghost. "That's not nice Prussia! Ludwig has a nice cock. It's thicker than mine! You can't drink our beer anyway."

Germany flinches at the sound of his brother's illusion, pulling away to mutter, "Not real. Not real. Not real..." This is the kind of thing one seeks therapy for! "I think I - I must take a shower!"

"Good idea! We haven't done it in there in a while." Italy grabs Germany's arm, then pauses to run back to the kitchen and turn off the stove. Germany is still standing there when he gets back, and he happily drags him upstairs, singing: "Sexy-times with Luddy, hooray, hooray! We're going to do it in the shower, today, today!"

"But...but...BEER!" Prussia points at the fridge. Then, with a disappointed sigh, he follows. "_Austria_ would get me beer."

"Austria would get you-!" Germany sucks in a breath through his teeth. He can't believe he's arguing with a figment of his imagination, even as Italy is singing the Shower Time song, which he only ever sings when there is a very high probability of multiple orgasms. "Notrealnotrealnotreal..."

"West, come on!" Prussia frowns, poking at him. "I'm here! How can you ignore this much concentrated awesome? I'm getting really tired of it. Even _Vene_ knows I'm here!" This has been going on for ages. He doesn't understand why West continues to ignore what's right in front of him. All the time he's been getting stronger, from a whisper and a breeze to this visible form, and he's learning to make things _happen_. He's real, just as real as they are. And he wants BEER. Beer and sex. The last time he tried sex was when Frannie was visiting, and it didn't really do anything for either of them. THAT was depressing. So he'll settle for the beer.

Germany is dragged into the bathroom, still chanting his little mantra. He can't concentrate on Italy like this, can't enjoy their time together. He needs to get away, to think. He tries to disentangle himself from Italy, even as his brother's illusion hangs right in his face. "Vene, I need a moment, I..."

"DAMMIT WEST!" The aura around Prussia goes dark and the lights flicker. There's so much static in the air that Italy's hair curl straightens. "I'm RIGHT HERE!" Prussia pushes Germany's chest with all the force he can muster - and suddenly, he's looking in the opposite direction.

"What the..." That's weird. His voice isn't as awesome as it usually is. And he can...he can _feel_ the clothes on his body, the ground beneath his feet. Germany, on the other hand, feels muddled. Lost, like his eyes have rolled back in his head and his mouth has gone numb, or he's being pulled by puppet strings. He tries to shout to Italy, but nothing comes out.

Italy turns, tilting his head to the side. "Hmm? Wasn't Gilbert just here? You're so mean to him Ludwig, making him run off." He pokes him in the chest.

Prussia jumps at the poke. He _felt_ that. Really felt it. "HOLY SHIEBE. I'm alive!"

"_Are_ you?" Italy giggles. His hands wander again, tracing the zipper of his pants. "Feels like you are. You're all tense too, and you're kinda making a funny face. Want help?" He leans forward, eyes closed and lips parted for a kiss.

Prussia frowns. Italy is going to kiss him? He's usually so upset when Prussia tries to grope him a little, or make the towel float to smack his ass. He looks down at himself and gasps. He's wearing Germany's clothes. No...he's wearing _Germany_. Oh this is going to be good. "JA I do!" He grabs Italy around the middle, kissing him soundly and already fumbling with the clothes. First there will be sex. Then there will be beer. Then there will be beer AND sex.

"Mmf!" Germany is very vigorous tonight! Beyond that, Italy can hardly think. He just wants Germany naked with him, and he's not really giving it much thought beyond that.

The real Germany is screaming, beating his hands against the walls of his mind, but he can't get through. The bastard! Gilbert is not going to get away with fucking his lover! Even if it is through his body!

Prussia has them both naked and stumbling into the shower by the time the water heats up. He presses Italy back against the wall and bites his neck. "Gott that's nice. I'm gonna take you so hard, you're going to feel both of us."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Germany has gone from screaming to begging to simply curling up in a little ball in his mind, praying for this to end. This isn't fair! It's like he's having an out-of-body experience. And now his clothes are everywhere! His shirt is even spattered with water from the shower.

It's very hard for Italy to concentrate with Germany sucking on his neck like that and gripping his butt, yet there's something strange. It doesn't feel right; it doesn't feel like Germany. He's never quite this crass about lovemaking, even when he's being rough. "H-hey Luddy? Are you - ooh - okay?"

"Are you kidding?" Prussia pauses long enough to lean back and smirk at Vene. "I'm ficken AWESOME!" Then he kisses him hard, bodily lifting him against the shower wall. That makes Italy frown. That does not sound like Germany at all, although the way their cocks are rubbing feels really nice...NO! He has to concentrate. Something's wrong with Germany. He's not awesome, he's worried about his brother and...everything clicks.

"GILBERT!" Italy grabs the crucifix above his head (there's one in every room, just in case), and smacks him on the head.

"OWE! Hey, what the fuck?" Prussia is forced to let go and back up against the curtain, rubbing his head. "Jesus, what kind of games have you been playing?" Italy isn't smiling, however. He's looking very angry, and holding the crucifix over Prussia in a way that makes him cower and hiss.

Light cracks before Germany's eyes and he jolts, pressing at the walls of darkness that have encased him, yelling _'OUT OUT OUT!'_

"Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine..." Italy recites his Latin perfectly, drawing on the power of the Vatican. Vat is a reclusive boy, but he resides within Italy's borders and is a devoted friend.

"Shiebe, ficken holle!" Prussia curses wildly, feeling everything _burn_ and separate, not just from this body but from the world. "Stop! Fuck, just stop, I'm going, I'm going!" He rips himself out of Germany and away from the stinging words.

The light explodes before Germany's eyes, blinding him. He sways on his feet, stumbling from the shower and leaning on the towel rack to steady himself. That was horrifying. A... A seizure! It must've been a seizure! "Ah... Vene... I am feeling..." With that, he sticks his head in the toilet and vomits.

"Oh, poor Ludwig!" Italy puts the crucifix back in place and pats Germany on the back. "Mean, mean Gilbert! It's not nice to possess people, even when you're angry with them. It's okay, Luddy, you'll feel better in a few hours. He wasn't in you for too long and I only had to hit you once. Ah, sorry about your head. We can have sex after the tomatoes instead!"


	7. Incubi

We hope you enjoy the chapter, lovely readers!

**PLEASE NOTE:** The original version of this chapter contains explicit smut. It has been edited for the rules of FF so you are not missing any major plot points. We have marked the edited/missing section with: **+XXX+. If you would like to read the full version, it is available on AO3! There is a link in our profile.**

**Chapter Summary:** France travels across the ocean in the hopes of finding a helping hand (or two). Canada, however, is having a similar problem.

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Ch. 7: Incubi

October 30, 8:00 PM

There is creeping heat to France's blood, letting him know with each beat of his heart that the clock is ticking and time is running out. If he lets this continue... He can't let it continue. It's as simple as that. His hands are shaking, his body is hungry for a fix, for energy, for _sex_. Since England is being stubborn and unhelpful, and Spain is apparently dealing with Romano, there's only one thing to do: it's time for a little trip across the pond. Canada may take some persuading, but America is almost always willing.

When he arrives at America's house the little grey alien lets him in with the pleasant greeting, "Fuck you."

"You too," says France, thanking the stars he isn't _quite _far gone enough to try sleeping with an alien yet. He wanders into the living room, expecting to find his conquest playing video games. To his great disappointment, America is unconscious on the couch.

"Alfred! Alfred, are you alright?" he calls, shaking him. America reacts like the peacefully-departed dead, though France can feel him breathing. The boy is alive, but he appears to be completely drained. It's almost as though another incubus got here before him. He shakes his head; impossible. There aren't any others that can take down a nation.

He should do something for poor America, but he can feel his own time running out. He'll find Canada and come back, once he has consumed enough sexual energy to keep his demon at bay. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tucks America in, planting a light kiss on his forehead. Then he heads upstairs.

Canada is _shaking_. He'd gone downstairs earlier to see if America could relieve his ailment, as he does every month. Unfortunately, either the super power had less energy than usual or Canada required more of it, because America passed out before he was done. It must be the proximity of Halloween; things tend to get strange for him around this time of year.

France' voice at his door is like an answer to his prayers. He yanks it open, grabs the man by the collar, and drags him inside. "_Francis_! Hi! It's so nice to see you! What brings you here? Oh, maple, who cares about that - let's go play Big Brother France and The Virgin Colony. You can plow my tracks of land."

France squeaks as he's pulled further into the room. It's never this easy with Canada. His senses should be sending off a warning, but they're all rather overwhelmed by the burning of his blood, the sound of it rushing past his ears on its way to lower places. Who is he to question such a happy coincidence? He wraps his arms around Canada and laughs. "My dear Canada, it seems Angleterre has been _most_ remiss in your education. Let me rectify that." He kisses him hard, kicking the door closed behind him.

Canada returns the kiss hungrily, his arms winding around France's neck as he rubs his hard-on up against the other nation, demanding attention. His blood rushes with the burn that makes his body shudder through every touch, every taste, every new sensation, and he starts yanking France's belt open, shoving his slacks to the floor. He affects a French accent, his hands already moving to places that are far from innocent or virginal. "Mmm, yes, I don't know _what_ you're doing to me, Big Brother, but I am so eager to learn."

"What an _eager_ student!" France kisses down his neck and bites at his pulse. He rubs against his hand, his own fingers opening Canada's pants as he steps out of his own. Canada guides them to the bedroom, and France pushes him onto the bed. Mon Dieu, they've never gone so quickly...the poor boy must have gone far too long without sex!

Canada looks over his shoulder at the black tulip that has measured his need for sex since the day he hit puberty. It is wilting. He needs to fuck _now_. "Oh, Big Brother France!" he cries out, rutting his cock up against France's and begging for more. "_Please_, show me pleasure, show me _l'amour_! Plow my land, fill it with your seed!"

"Merde!" France is burning, they're _both_ burning, so wonderfully that he almost wants to take his time. Almost. There's a much more persistent need for sex before things get ugly. Before _he_ gets ugly.

+XXX+

Canada lets loose so hard that he can barely stay on the bed. But the heat doesn't stop when he comes. It explodes and consumes him and he cries out again, arching into the pleasure of the change; it's almost better than an orgasm. His skin fades into lavender, his head sprouts little hump-horns. But - But _no_! This was supposed to _stop_ the change! He writhes through it, fighting the pleasure until two huge bat wings pop out of his back, finally overwhelming him.

France shrieks in pleasure, noticing the changes in his own body just as Canada does. He pulls out and throws himself off the bed in a bid to get away before Canada realizes what's happened. He doesn't understand! The sex should have delayed the change, at the very least! Instead the process accelerates. His body twists and jerks, his skin turns grey, wings burst from his back, horns part his blonde hair, his nails grow to claws, and a tail sprouts from his spine. "NO!"

Canada gasps, crawling backward on his bed, his own tail poking straight up in the air in shock. "What the-?! Francis!" He cries out in horror, his eyes wide as he realizes what has happened. Two incubi do not cancel one another out.

France hides his face behind mutated hands, curling up and closing the wings around him. "Don't look at me! I'm hideous! Oh, cheri, please don't be frightened, I am sorry! I can explain, but...do not look, turn away!"

It is not fear, but frustration that has Canada picking up a pillow and hurling it at his "Big Brother". "Francis!" He shouts.

Shock makes France look up, and then he stares. "...oh. Well."

There's silence for a moment as they take stock of one another in demon form. Sex demon, that is. Canada swallows hard, staring at France's storm cloud skin, his wide blue eyes now shining red. Those claws, those ram horns... His cock is getting hard again. _Resist_! He tells himself, but at the moment resisting just isn't in his nature. "Y-Yeah..." He blushes a little, part in embarrassment and part in lust.

"But _how_?" France whispers. It's impossible to keep his eyes focused on Canada's face. Not when the wings tore his shirt, and that tail is curling and uncurling over the edge of the bed. He wants to pull it. After all, he always liked it when England pulled on his. Not that he will ever tell England; he'd stop if he knew how much France liked it.

"W-well, when I came to visit you when I was little, I always read your books, and..." Canada doesn't quite understand it himself. He only knows that there was one book he would always read before bed, and when he read it, a strange looking man would come to him in his dreams. The man would stay with him and talk until he opened his eyes, protecting him from bad dreams. But he said they couldn't 'play' until Canada turned eighteen. It took about that long for Canada to completely understand the promise he'd made, and its repercussions. However, right now he's staring at France's cock like it's a popsicle on a hot summer's day, and that seems far more important. He licks his lips, leaning closer. "Does it matter?"

"No...I mean YES!" France shakes his head. "Yes it matters! Oh cheri, I am so sorry! I never should have left that where you could find it. I did not want my curse to pass to you! My poor boy." He's hugging him. Intimately. He does not remember moving back on the bed, or wrapping his arms around Canada, or- tongue! There is tongue on his chest.

Canada can't help it! Not in this form. He wriggles free of France's arms, his lips and tongue making their way down France's chest. "Mmm-hmm..." He smirks, his tongue flicking his nipple. "So, it doesn't really matter, right?"

It is only because France has dealt with this curse for so long that he has the self-control to push Canada away. "But it does! We _can't_! You saw what happened. If we keep doing this together it will get worse! The demon will take over, and there will be nothing of us left. Just desire, and a desperate need to feed off the sexual energy of our friends and enemies alike." The thing is, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea at the moment. "We must find someone else before we both go mad!"

Canada can just barely pull himself back from France's body. "But I want to... fuck. And you're a great fuck. Who else can we fuck like this? Can we... together?"

France swallows. Canada is a _gift_, and one that's being offered free to him! Yet he, of all people, must refuse. "Together, but, separately. Someone must be in the middle. Oh..." He forces himself to look at Canada's eyes, even though his tale is thrashing with lust. "What is wrong with your brother?"

Canada crawls closer, his own tail twining with France's as he wraps his arms around his neck and slides into his lap. "I may have drained a bit more than he could handle. I just thought, it's _Alfred_, he's always full of energy. Apparently even he has a limit."

France sighs and cuddles against Canada, petting that lovely purple skin. "You two are going to be the end of me. How am I ever to fix all that Angleterre taught you if you keep getting into trouble?" He shakes his head, wings twitching, aching to stretch. "We will have to find a different third, then."

One clawed finger drags slow and heavy up France's chest, his lips pressing up against his throat. "Tell me you have somebody in mind."

As if France can think at all! He drags an equally clawed foot up Canada's leg and shuts his eyes, practically purring. Purring! That's the answer! His eyes fly open and he grins, displaying fangs. "Of course! Leave it to big brother; we will visit Greece! He is _always_ up for l'amour, and he's always asleep, so it will be twice as powerful for us. Ah, we are saved!"

"Yes!" Canada kisses him in celebration. Of course, the kiss results in more kissing, which results in petting, which results in... Something he can barely pull away from. "Right! Yes. Let's get dressed."

France blinks. "Dressed?" Oh. Right. Naked incubi are likely to be shot on sight. With a sigh he pulls his pants over his aching hard on. He's not going to worry about the shirt; shirts make it too hard to fly.


	8. A Little Dream

Hello lovelies! Please read and review - we love hearing from you!

**Chapter Summary:** Incubi France and Canada visit Greece in the hopes of satiating their urges. Unfortunately, some vampiric kittens got there first.

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Ch. 8: A Little Dream

October 31, 5:00 AM

The world is easy to travel through for fully-transformed incubi. They move just below consciousness, in the dimension that ends where human vision begins. It is a level below (or perhaps above) time and space, which can be molded by thought. This realm of dreams is home to them.

Unfortunately, France and Canada are easily distracted by one another, so the door they create to Greece's home has them arriving several hours later than they intended. They slip through it, staying just below consciousness so that they can watch without being seen by anyone who is fully conscious.

Greece is somewhere between sleeping and waking. The kitties have been snacking, despite the fact that they can get some of their own food now. It's just that there's so many of them! They're still kittens, after all, and he's their momma...sort of. He doesn't really mind; it doesn't hurt. All the bites just make him very, very sleepy. Then he notices an extra presence. He glares at Turkey. "What're you doing here?"

Turkey glares right back at him. "Taking care of your ass. Brat."

"Have some juice," Japan commands, practically pouring the stuff down Greece's throat. He called Turkey over last night so they could switch off sleeping and caring for Greece, even if Greece continues to believe he's fine. He isn't. Even after a good night's sleep he is still pale, still shaky, and still fading in and out of consciousness. The kittens that are curled all around him, napping contentedly, are no help either.

Greece drinks, still trying to glare at Turkey, but distracted by the strange fog over Turkey's shoulder. It's dark and filled with streaks like colored lightning. Out from the fog come claws; he recoils, and then relaxes when he sees what they're attached to. Ah. This is familiar. He has no idea why he has these recurring dreams of France with bat wings, but they always end happily. "Oh. Hello."

Canada follows France into Greece's consciousness, sliding his hand around France's hip with a smirk. "Hi."

Turkey yawns. He has no idea why he's here playing nurse, and yet... He sighs, grabbing more pillows and shoving them under the brat's head, his ears twitching as he hears a noise. Something... strange. Like a wind that came from within the house. He tenses, a chill running all the way up his spine, and hisses in unison with the cats. He moves toward the hallway to get away from the cold feeling, dragging Japan with him and trying to keep his instincts in check. "Something is _wrong_. I don't like it in here."

Japan rolls his eyes. "Don't be so juvenile. You're here to help." He pushes away from Turkey and returns to the bedroom. The kittens are all very much awake now, creeping out of the room with wide eyes and full tails. "Huh."

France grins, his tongue darting over his fangs. "Are we interrupting, or did you just finish? You look so satisfied." His wings twitch, along with other parts of his anatomy.

"We were hoping you would play with us," says Canada. He licks his lips and slips his hands down to France's pants, rubbing over his crotch.

Greece eyes them up and down. It's a nice view. _Very_ nice, with some tight pants that fit more like second skins. France's tale is crawling up Canada's thigh, and Canada's hands are roaming low. They're showering him with lust, sending it towards him in waves. Still, he yawns. One of the braver kitties hisses by his ear and chomps down on his neck.

"BAD!" Japan rushes over, picking up the kitten and shooing it off with the others. There's blood welling at Greece's neck. He groans, pressing his fingers over the wound.

Even the sight of blood makes France ache. He wants to lap it up, leave sharp little bites all down Greece's chest. Or let him do the biting. He's really not in any state to be picky. He saunters closer, sighing as Canada's hands fall away. "Play with us, Hera. You look tired; just lie back and let us do the work."

Greece looks between the winged nations and the ones taking care of him. Such a proposal sounds perfectly reasonable, but it would hardly be fair to leave out his friends. "Can Kiku play too? And the bastard, I guess."

Canada licks his lips and shares a gleeful look with France. "If you can get them to cuddle up and sleep with you, we may be able to arrange that."

Japan is still leaning over Greece, trying to staunch the bleeding at his neck with the edge of his robe while Turkey goes for bandages. Greece doesn't understand why. It's only a kitten; it's not like it could have opened his artery or anything. He tugs on Japan's sleeve. "Hey. Come nap?"

"You _cannot_ be serious!" Japan yanks himself away. The horde of kittens has returned, gathering around Greece and just waiting for him to fall asleep. Nowhere is safe. He may never sleep at Greece's house again.

Turkey returns with bandages which may have unraveled when he realized they were part of a roll, and rolls can roll when you bat them around on the floor. Japan looks pissed off and Greece looks blissed out, which means he missed another feisty kitten. "Aw, fuck, brat! Can't you keep them off of you for a fuckin' minute? I don't even know if we have enough bandages!"

France kneels on the bed and crawls up the length of Greece's body. "You must have been a bad boy, to get so covered in scratches and bandages. Eh..." He pauses, tongue just beneath one of said bandages. "Why _are_ you covered in bandages?"

One of the cats flies by, hissing and scratching at the air where Canada is. Another five fly by the window, carrying a dog that is crying in desperate terror.

Too many people are talking at once for Greece to understand. He can't follow all the conversations, so he decides to go with the one that's easiest to pay attention to. The one with the tongue. "Kittens. It's okay, they're just," he yawns, "playing. Need a little training. Or something."

Canada jolts at the sight of the kittens covering the dog. It isn't long before the cries stop. "Holy Maple," he mutters. He grabs France's shoulder and shakes it, pointing at the creatures. "I think... Um... They're not just kittens anymore."

France glances over. Clearly the kittens are possessed or _something_, but Greece is all naked and cut up and fuckable, right here. "Oh well. They can't do anything to us. Now then! Mattie, what part of him do you want?"

Canada points to the paleness, the expression of bliss on Greece's face, the fact that there's a little white kitten _sucking on his shoulder_. "Fran, look at him. He's completely drained. If he has any energy left, it's basically how he's breathing right now."

"M'fine!" Greece protests.

Japan yanks the kitten free from Greece's shoulder, ignoring her lamenting yowl. "Stop that!"

France frowns. Canada has a point. Greece is cold to the touch, and there are kittens everywhere. This could be a problem. He slides a hand down to Greece's underwear, trying to rub him to arousal. While it's clear Greece's interested, his cock only makes a half-hearted effort.

"Hm. Let me see something..." He swoops down to kiss Greece's mouth, testing the taste of him and trying to breathe him in. Usually when he does this he feels revitalized, pulling energy from the one beneath him. This time there's barely a little static. When he pulls away, Greece is panting and his eyes are half-closed. France sighs. "Damn." He kisses Greece again, returning what he can; not that he has much to give.

Greece shudders, feeling like France was toying with more than his air supply. But now he's getting off the bed. He tries to reach for France, but his body is _so heavy_. Kiku says something and he looks up. There's a kitten hiding in the folds of his robe, just waiting for Kiku to lean too close to Greece. When he does, she snaps her teeth into his chest. "Clever girl," he mutters, and promptly passes out.

Raising an eyebrow at the scene, Canada turns back to France and takes his hand. "So. Spain?"

"Usually works." They disappear.


	9. Preparations

**Chapter Summary:** Norway prepares for the arrival of some dangerous guests, but is interrupted by other problems.

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Ch. 9: Preparations

October 31, 6:30 AM

The cages are mostly clean. He cleaned them yesterday too, but somehow Norway never feels like they are clean enough. It feels wrong to put nations in a cage, but how is he supposed to deal with the wolves otherwise? He does his best to make them comfortable, tossing a couple of Estonia's shoes under one cot and leaving Latvia's old running shirt on top of the sheets.

Every month he does this. It does get tiring after a while, but he supposes it's tiring to be cooped up in a cage when your blood is up and you're driven to hunt. Which might explain why one werewolf turned into six, despite his best efforts to keep them contained. He changes the locks every other month, but when the wolves do get out they're almost never broken; they're unlocked. That means that either the wolves have opposable thumbs, or...Norway glares at his imp. "You have to _promise_ you won't go near them this month." The locks are made of iron now; many magical creatures, including imps, can't stand the touch of it. Still, he wouldn't bet lives on that holding back Denmark.

"I never have, dude. I keep telling you," Denmark lies, because he can, because he really has to. It's totally not his fault that the Slavic nations get all adorable when they wear those hairy costumes that are probably a Baltic tradition he doesn't know about. Yeah... Licking his lips, he picks up a broom as if to help. "Why do they need locking up anyway? All they do is fuck and pace around."

"And bite, if you get near enough and happen to smell good. You just don't notice because imps and demons stink to them. They prefer animals to demons, humans to animals, and fairies to almost anything else...and apparently vampires, but I would call that a special case." Norway shakes his head. When the wolves get out, there is always carnage: saliva covered pixie wings, a human corpse or two, maybe a changeling or an elf. Lots and lots of dead wildlife. The worst, though, are the survivors. "That won't stop them from biting you if you bother them. I've dealt with them for a long time now; when the full moon is up, there isn't much left that's rational."

"Hey, I get all irrational in the right moonlight, too." Denmark grins, using the broom to literally sweep Norge off his feet. He catches him as he nearly topples over. "When the moon is full and the stars are bright, all I can think about is..." He trails off, grinning shark-like as he tightens his grip around that pretty body.

Norway scowls. "I told you this yesterday we would have to wait a few days. I'm too busy; if you distract me, something could go very, very wrong."

Denmark chuckles, reaching up and tugging the hidden curl of hair Norge usually keeps under his hat. God, he's hot when he gets all buck-wild. "What could go wrong? Your funky little sleepover? Hah - your parties are more fun than Tino's." Leaning in, he kisses his mouth.

For just a moment Norway relents, returning the kiss. Then he pushes him away and goes to the cot, fixing the sheets. They're old and grey, already torn in places, but he doesn't feel bad for using them with their guests. They'll be shreds by morning anyway. "No, Mattias." At the very least, being down here with all the iron has got to be sapping the imp's energy.

Denmark pouts at the use of his full name; Norway tends to use it when he's all work and no play. Unfair, when all he wants to do is take him back up to their room and smooth the worry from his brow, fuck him into their pillows and curl around him. He's been tired himself lately, but fighting it. He can't stand seeing Norge so freaked out. Norge, who's never freaked out about anything. "C'mon, the thingies are fine. There are better things you could be doing, eh?"

"Things _you_ want to do. Sometimes I'm tired or busy, Matt, or I just don't want to!" Norway shouts, tossing a pillow onto the cot rather more violently than he intended. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, turning back to ease the blow. "Look, I like being with you. I really do. But when you keep-" The phone rings, and he groans. "C'mon. We're finished down here for now."

Stung, Denmark steps back to let Norway pass. Well. Now he knows. Something hot and angry rises in him, and he kicks the bottom bar of one of the cages - instantly he's jumping back with a hiss that he will neither remember nor recognize as his own. His skin feels tingly, like it's just been shocked, and his heart is beating too fast. Denmark is confused. Where is he? Why does he feel all fuzzy? What just happened? He heads up the stairs and finds Norway on the phone.

Norway rubs his temples as he listens to Japan ramble. Of _course_, even the ones who are usually fine on their own are having problems today. "Wait, slow down. Vampire...kittens. You said vampire kittens." No, sadly, he has not heard wrong. "How did that - never mind. I'm going to stake Yao later. So he's out cold, but he was seeing things? What kind of things?"

On the other end of the line Japan rolls his eyes and pets through Greece's hair, raising a squirt bottle when he sees one of the kittens creeping closer. "He said that he saw France and some other person. And they wanted to have sex, but he's trying to be faithful to me. I... I also wanted to let you know," his voice drops to a whisper, "I've been having... urges."

"That appears to be going around. Anything specific?" Norway replies. He'd nearly forgotten about the incubi with all his preparations for the wolves and the fairies. He's going to have to find them, which will be difficult if they've gone full-form. No doubt they have.

"I'm sure you know what I mean, since you're the only one who's seen my true nature in the last century." His hands are shaking, fingers shuddering with the want to... _reach_.

"I meant anything obvious? Like extra limbs?" Usually Japan is good at controlling his more primal nature. However, every century or so the urges get bad. It's probably been about a century since the last time this happened. Just _perfect_.

"Not yet." Japan grits his teeth, his fingers dragging down Greece's cheek and sliding over his lower lip. It feels so good to touch... No! He yanks his hand away. "But I'm about three seconds away from jumping Hera."

"Okay, just hold on." Norway takes a deep breath, hissing it out through his teeth. "Don't do that. The cats took a lot out of him and no doubt Francis took what was left. He needs rest. Juice, things with sugar. Possibly a blood transfusion. You need to keep calm, get some relief to take the edge off - if you know what I mean."

"I can't, there's _no one_," Japan replies, eyeing Turkey. He's sitting on the edge of the balcony rail, trying to catch a butterfly. "I am _never_ touching Yao again, and considering Sadik's a neko, he may take a liking to me in the wrong way."

"I don't think he'd mistake you for sushi, if that's what you- wait, how the do _you_ know about him?" Norway hisses.

"I've slept with him," Japan snaps, his fingers dragging back and forth over Hera's lips, finally dipping inside, very gently. He bites back a moan. "Even if I hadn't, what kind of normal nation wants you to feed them anchovies and cream? That's just ridiculous." He drags his fingers away, shoving them into his pocket and pacing away from the bed.

"Hera's slept with him too, though, and he doesn't know. Sadik swore he always did it...subtly." Norway sighs. At least he is sure Japan can keep a secret. Norway, England, and Romania agreed long ago that it was best for the nations not to know about one another, lest they find a new reason to start a war. "Does he know about you? Because then you could just solve two problems at once."

"_No_. And he's not going to. What would he think of me?" Japan blinks back tears as he considers it. "He's adorable. Sweet. Caring. Kind. They both are. I'm... I'm a freak. With twenty-one tentacles just waiting to be let loose. _No_."

Those are not the first words that come to mind when Norway thinks of Turkey and Greece, but they're Japan's lovers and not his. "I'm pretty sure they would love it. But no, you're right; they shouldn't know. However, I want you to know I've dealt with monsters, and you aren't one of them. I'm serious, Kiku. You could be something beautiful if you would only see yourself that way."

Japan rubs his eyes with his sleeve. "Thank you, Lukas. That is very sweet of you to say." He sighs, squirting another kitten and watching with slight bemusement as a few of the others fly past the window, carrying another dog. "I think I'll call Berwald, see if he's willing to come check on Hera. He's good with medical emergencies."

"YES," Norway says, a little too enthusiastically. Call someone else, _anyone_ else. England is half mad, Romania's managed to lock himself in some sort of parallel dimension, and no one else knows the whole truth. "It should be alright. Just keep an eye on him, and EYES ONLY. Get away for a minute to take care of yourself. Maybe a bath in salt water? It should slow things down, at least, until I can think of something."

"Call me if you find a solution," says Japan, hanging up after pleasantry-dictated goodbyes. He licks his lips, his eyes focusing on the prone Greece. So sweet... He wants to... NO. He squirts another kitten, and dials Sweden's number.

Norway sighs and leans back against the wall, feeling a massive migraine approach. Things will only get worse from here, of that he's quite sure. The truth is, he needs help. He can't do this alone. With the other members of the magic trio out of commission, his options are few. He takes another breath and opens his eyes to see Denmark looking at him cautiously, almost worried. That makes him smile. He reaches out and takes his hand, leaving plenty of distance so the imp doesn't get any ideas. "Matt, I need to make a very long distance call. Do you remember the runes?"

Raising his eyebrows, Denmark's expression shifts from worried to confused. Well, at least it doesn't look like Norge is going to kick him in the balls this time. "Like the old alphabet? Sure. It got cool again a few years back, so I got them all tattooed on my arm, see?" He lifts his arm, showing off the runes that circle his bicep.

"That's right." Norway smirks. Those tattoos were his greatest idea yet. They're like a tracking system for Denmark, even across dimensions - one simply never knows with an imp. Or Romania, apparently. "We'll go to the cave out back. I don't trust you with the crystals or the bones, but you can help draw the letters in the dirt. We're calling _Odin_, alright? You have to remember that. I'm going to ask his spirit to join me for a while, to help with things."

"Odin. Right. King-God. Totally remember him, dude. He was great. Just like me!" He grins, pulling Norge into his arms. "So, once you're done talking to the King of Asgard, wanna worship your earthly king for a little while?"

Norway smacks him away. "I am NOT having sex with you while I share a body with our old god!"

"Awe, c'mon! He'd enjoy it!" Denmark chases after him anyway, grinning. Man, once this whole party is over he's going to remind Norway why they started fucking in the first place.


	10. The Short Straw

**Chapter Summary:** Estonia is sent to bring Russia home before the full moon. Unfortunately, Russia is not alone.

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Ch. 10: The Short Straw

October 31, 9:00 AM

Estonia has drawn the short straw again. He's starting to think Lithuania cheats. So now he's here, staring at China's door, feeling more than dread crawl over his skin as he opens it and heads inside. China never locks his door anymore. No one dares to threaten him.

"Ah...hello?" he calls, too quiet to actually be heard. It's dim inside and he can smell blood. Blood and death and Russia. This is the one place that doesn't make him turn tail and run, because it always smells like blood and death. It's a strangely pleasant dead smell; not like rotting corpses, more like winter, when there is simply a lack of life and everything has gone pure and crisp.

Estonia wanders a little further into the house, his footsteps seeming to echo. "Ah...hello? Yao? Is, ah, is Ivan here? I mean, I smell him, so I know he's here. Can I talk to him? It's kind of important. Family business. But I promise not to take long!" He sniffs the air and cocks his head, listening. There are shuffling sounds coming from the next room. A very Russian groan, and a chuckle that might be China's. He blushes, wondering if he should just go. Unfortunately his mission _is_ important. Maybe if Russia is in a decent mood he'll come quietly this month.

China has taken Russia all for himself this afternoon, and decided to use the rafters in the parlor for their fun. He's tired of sharing his lover with a pack, but he can't say he doesn't understand. All creatures have habits. In his arms, Russia is surprisingly docile. Possibly because he's upside down, hanging from the ceiling in a way that is not natural to him. Lewdly, China licks Russia's ear. "I've missed you," he says, one arm around his Russian, holding him to his chest, as the other strokes his cock.

Russia squirms against him. When they first started doing this, he was careful not to move too much; now he knows that China will not let him fall. Well, probably. But it's that danger that gives it such a thrill. China is gorgeous at this angle, his hair flowing down towards the floor and his snow-pale face achieving just a bit of color. Those hands seem to be everywhere, stroking his cock, reaching between his legs to touch where no one else is allowed. He groans, so wrapped up in his lover that he does not notice one of his pack has entered.

"Why don't you just admit that you can't live without me?" China chuckles into his Russian Wolf's ear, hissing softly against the skin. Russia is putty in his fingers when his biology is reacting to pleasure and gravity. "We are so good together, Ivan... You don't need anyone else..." He revels in the sounds Russia makes, licking his throat and finally sinking his teeth into the flesh, just a snack. Russia's blood is delicious. He bites harder, his hand moving rapidly on that cock, making it bigger, getting it ready. He wants to see him explode everywhere. Russia always looks so happy, and besides - it's fun to watch Hong Kong clean it up.

Teeth, hands, fingers, nails...Russia has no idea what they're all doing anymore, nor does he care. When China gets like this he can do things that make no physical sense, things that can make Russia go absolutely wild. He's trying not to _howl_, so he presses his face against China's shoulder, accidentally tearing those teeth from his neck. That sharp pain makes him gasp and growl against China's skin, driving him near to the edge.

The shuffling is loud in here, but the room is big and dark so Estonia can't quite pinpoint it. They're here somewhere. He can smell them. He shuts his eyes and lifts his nose to the air.

Something wet taps Estonia's nose. He wipes it away and blinks at his fingers. Hard to tell in the light. Does China have a leak somewhere? He sniffs it, and goes rigid. That's _blood_. That's Russia's blood! Another heavy drop falls on top of his head, and it is then that he makes his biggest mistake. He looks up.

They are...on the ceiling, and China is doing things with his hands that make Estonia want to gouge out his eyes. China twists his fingers, sinks his teeth into Russia's shoulder, and the man loses it with a wild, howling cry. Unfortunately for Estonia, gravity is still in effect. He gets splattered with cum and blood, as if the sight alone wasn't enough to make him want to bleach his brain. The smell is overwhelming, and he stumbles out of the way. "Oh my GOD! What the _hell_ are you doing?!"

China doesn't hear Estonia screeching like a banshee until he's already making out with Russia, his tongue sliding hot over his mouth. Eventually, the sound filters through and he looks down. "Oh. Eduard, what are you doing standing in range of my target?"

Russia pants hard, licking his lips to find China's taste somewhere beneath his own blood. It is really only when _China_ says something that he notices Estonia. He cranes his neck to see, and grins. "Hello Eddie. Oh...you have something in your hair. Did you know?"

Estonia starts frantically wiping at his hair, only to get it all on his hands. Oh...oh God. He is NEVER going to feel clean again. He needs to shower _now_. In fact, he may just shave his head and burn out his eyes. He doesn't need them, his nose is strong enough. But there will still be the memory. "Oh _GOD_." He flees, completely forgetting the purpose of his visit.

Russia grins. "This is fun. It may even be better than the time you fucked me against the wall outside...three floors up."

China laughs again, licking over the neck wound and letting his lover fall gently to the couch. "What do you think he wanted, aru?"

That hazy, post-orgasmic blood-letting settles over Russia, making his smile nearly serene. He lounges back on China's couch, watching his lover float above. "Does it matter?"


	11. Stone and Iron

Thanks for reading and reviewing! We love hearing from you. This chapter is especially for those who were worried about Sweden. You should be worried - just not the way Finland thinks!

**Chapter Summary:** Sweden faces the consequences of skipping the potion that keeps him human, and Norway has finally had enough of Denmark's impish pranks.

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Ch. 11: Stone and Iron

October 31, 10:00 AM

Sweden knows Finland is upset about something. Finland has been cleaning since he returned yesterday from Estonia's, and now their whole house is spotless. Even Hanatamago has little bows on her ears. Sweden raises an eyebrow at that, but says nothing. It seems, after all, that the trouble has something to do with _him_. He wishes they could sit down and discuss things, but Finland doesn't seem to feel like talking and he's been distracted. The changes keep coming, and the potion isn't working. Which...may be because he missed a dose. Or four.

Meanwhile, Finland has decided that their kitchen is _filthy_, and is on his knees cleaning the oven. To anyone else their kitchen would look showroom ready. Finland, however, is not just anyone, and he's not happy with the state of their appliances. Scrubbing the inside of the oven, he ignores the sound of approaching footsteps, hoping Sweden will just walk away because he can't deal with him right now.

Sweden stares down at him, trying to decide how best to figure out what's going on. Part of him says the right thing to do is toss Finland over his shoulder, head for a cave, and never let anyone else look at his wife again. He suppresses that urge with a shudder. "Ah, Tin...didn't y'clean that this morning?"

"Lots of germs come through this house. More than I know, apparently." He scrubs harder, his whole body moving into it.

Sweden licks his lips at the sight of Finland bent over in his little shorts. _Just pick him up, take him away and_...NO. He kneels beside him. "Can I help?"

"_No_," Finland snaps. He pulls out of the oven and gives his husband a narrow-eyed glare. "You are _filthy_. Get out of my kitchen, Bernie, and don't you dare come back until you're clean." Scowling, Tino turns back to the oven. "Which may be never."

Sweden jumps back, stunned, and smacks his head on the counter. He barely feels it; another bad sign. His head is getting harder, his skull thicker. "Tino!" he cries in frustration. "Why can't y'just tell me what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's _wrong_?" Finland asks, sounding slightly crazy. "You. You're all wrong. You're a dirty, lying..." He can't even say it. He throws the scrubbing brush at Sweden and flees, running out their kitchen door.

Sweden pales. Finland must have figured out what he really is. He always knew Finland would hate him for it, would never want to be with him again. He _is_ a dirty, lying _troll_. Maybe if he tells Finland that he can fix this he'll come back. He just needs more of that potion, and he swears he'll never miss a dose again. Then Finland won't have to see him scarred, ugly, and green.

He runs after Finland, heedless of the sunlight - and suddenly his hand is heavy. He jerks to a stop and looks at it in horror. His pinky has turned to stone. Sweden dashes back inside and ducks down. He needs to call someone right now, before his whole body turns to rock. He'll call Norway! He always knows how to fix these things.

XXX

For the past hour Norway has been looking for his rune carver. He's about a minute away from killing Denmark. "If you don't tell me where it is _right now_, I swear I will curse you so that your cock falls off!" Norway growls, the tips of his fingers sparking to show he isn't kidding.

"Uh..." Denmark backs away. In truth, he knows exactly where the thing is. Norway sent him out this morning to retrieve it from the altar, and since then he's been using it as a back-scratcher. Just before his back hits the wall, the phone rings. Saved by the bell, he darts into the next room while Norge is distracted.

With a growl, Norway picks up the phone. "_What_?"

"Luk. S'Bernie. Need y're help."

Norway groans and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Not you too! I thought Liza was helping you out? Her potion should be working just fine."

"Ah...well...s'not as fine as it could be."

Norway pauses. "...you stopped taking it again, didn't you?"

"No! Just...might've missed a dose."

"WHAT have I told you about that?!" Norway yells. "You can't miss a single one! Damnit, Bernie, I don't have time for this!"

"But it's awful stuff! Tastes bad and makes m'tongue heavy so I talk funny."

After a moment of benevolence (i.e., retrieving the back-scratcher), Denmark starts listening in to the conversation and laughs when he realizes it's Sweden on the phone. Stupid Sweden, always calling, looking for Norge. What a dick. Bitterly jealous, as most imps are, Denmark listens and plots his mischief.

Norway sighs, sliding back to lean against the wall. "I know, Bernie, but you're the one who has to deal with the consequences. Would you rather be a troll?"

Over the phone Sweden sighs too, deep and heavy. "No. I'll call Liza, ask for a new dose. But what can I do for now? Already changin', and I think...I think Tin found out."

"Tino...oh hell," Norway mutters. That's just _perfect_. A relationship crisis on top of everything else. "Look, I'm sorry, I really am, but you're going to have to figure that one out on your own. I can help you slow the changes, however, and give you some extra time."

"Thanks, Luk."

"Okay, now listen _very_ carefully. What you need to do is-"

The line goes dead, and from the next room Denmark laughs, rune carver and snapped phone wire still in his hands. That was the perfect moment. Priceless! Now Sweden can go fuck himself and Norge doesn't have to listen to it. "Hah! Oh My God, Dude. I'll bet he's totally flipping out right now."

For a good, long minute, Norway keeps listening to the phone. He already knows it's dead. He already knows why. But some part of his brain cannot comprehend it. All in all, it just gives him time to work up to a truly impressive rage.

Denmark is still laughing, shaking with it as he heads to the fridge for water. "I'll bet you anything he's gonna come over here. I should totally set up a drop-bucket on top of the door. Water or something. NO, hot coals!"

Norway replaces the phone on the hook slowly, because otherwise he is going to slam the whole thing through the wall. This calls for extreme measures. If he can't trust the imp with a phone call, there is no way he can trust him not to interrupt the ritual.

"Oooh, no, maybe hot oil." Denmark is so looking forward to this. Maybe he should put fun-house mirrors up by the door so Sweden will think his glasses are bad and take them off. Then he'll be able to steal them and throw them in their fireplace! Though where would he get fun-house mirrors on such short notice?

Norway returns with measured, quiet steps. He'll need to surprise the imp if he wants this to be easy, so he takes the long way around to the kitchen. While Denmark is looking the other way, he grabs his wrist and locks it in an iron shackle. "I warned you, Matt. I warned you over and over again. This is for your own good, so that I don't end up throttling you."

Immediately, Denmark's face contorts into the most devilish incarnation it can express. He roars and screams, a sound so angry that it renders his voice unrecognizable. He doubles over in pain, still shrieking. "LUKAS! What the FUCK!"

Norway sighs, wrapping the other end of the chain around his wrist. "I _am_ sorry that it hurts you. But iron is the only thing that keeps you in one place! I just...you make such a mess of things, and I can't deal with it right now! You might think it's funny now, but how funny would it be if Bernie really turned to stone?" The Dane gives him a look, and he backtracks. "Alright, bad example. I forgot who I was talking to. What if I couldn't get to the wolves in time? They could bite somebody - somebody you _like_."

Still hissing with demonic displeasure, the imp practically curses his way to kingdom come as Norway drags him outside. He's all imp now, clawing at the chains with long black nails; the iron draws it out of his blood. Little horns stick out through his hair, his skin turns pale blue, his eyes go red, and he pulls back black lips to snarl through sharp fangs.

Norway reaches the base of the biggest tree in his yard and points up. "Climb. Or I hoist you up with the chain."

With an inhuman howl, Denmark scrambles up to the highest branches, cursing and spitting all the way. Norway follows after him, wrapping the chain around the trunk as he goes. When he reaches the top he holds a hand out to the imp, still wary. There's always the chance Denmark will push him out of the tree; Denmark _would_ regret that later, but the imp would find it hilarious. "Give me your hand. If you try anything, I will leave you here with the shackles on."

Slowly, Denmark reaches out, everything in him shaking as he does. He doesn't understand what's happening right now. He is only pain, anger, hate, filth. He clutches the tree with one hand, hissing as he shows the other.

With gentle fingers, Norway releases the shackle. The skin underneath is an angry red, and he kisses it, feeling a little guilty. The minute the chain falls away, Denmark shakes himself out of it, looking around, not sure where the hell he is. He's high-up. There's Norge, and... leaves. A slow, dirty smirk comes to his lips. "Did you knock me out and drag me all the way up a tree to fuck? I didn't know you cared."

It's difficult to remain angry in the face of that reddened skin and his instantly amnesiac Dane. Norway sighs. "No, Matt. You were being...impish. I can't risk you trying anything stupid, at least not while I'm summoning Odin. Maybe, if you promise to be good, I'll let you come down after the ritual."

"Come down? Dude, I can come down right-" Denmark tries to slide down the tree, but the chain brushes his shoulder. He hisses, glaring at the iron and shooting up into his branch again. Then he shakes himself out of it, blinking around. "Where am I?"

Norway shakes his head. He doesn't have time to explain this ten more times. "You're in Time Out." With that, he climbs back down the tree. At least Denmark left the rune carver in the kitchen, so he can finish preparing the ritual.

"Huh? What'd I...?" Denmark is about to slide down when Norway wraps a chain around the trunk of the tree. His foot brushes it, and he shoots back into the branches, looking down at the ground in confusion when he comes to again. This time, he decides he's going to stay in the tree.


End file.
